The Asset
by Bellsa
Summary: Agent Gaz of Hydra was saved by a man with a metal arm at the age of ten. That was over a decade ago. Since then, she had worked for Hydra. Their mission to capture the Winter Soldier was evident and they wanted her help. Unfortunately, she owed the man her life and she'd be damned if she let them control him again.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

A woman walked down the halls, a straight expression on her face.

She wore a mandatory hydra uniform, which consisted of tight black material adorned with silver medals and of course, the hydra symbol.

Her short blonde hair was tucked into the black hat she wore over her head.

If it wasn't for her breasts or curved figure, she could have been mistaken for a man.

She walked with perfect posture, her spine straight as she kept her gaze directly ahead of her.

She ignored all of the nods and "Ma'am's" she received from her inferiors.

The end of the hallway held a large metal door. No one noticed it, and if they did notice it, they didn't care.

Once she reached the end of the hallway, she pulled out a security card from the inside of her uniform jacket. She scanned the card easily and was granted access to the metal door.

Only a couple people watched her as she slipped into the room with perfect agility. Many of the hallways inhabitants were over her presence. They had done their duty in acknowledging her and after that, they had no other respectful obligations.

The woman had closed the door behind her and turned in one fluid motion to face the group in front of her.

At least five men sat at a table, all talking to one another in hushed voices.

She paid no attention to this and showed no interest in knowing what it was they were talking about.

She merely took a seat at the head of the table and looked towards the black screen which she knew would be injected with life once the command sergeant major arrived.

She sat patiently, her posture perfect and her hands sitting in her lap.

Suddenly, the door on the opposite wall opened and a man of about 50 entered the room. He wore a similar uniform to all of the men and the single woman. Except, his contained much more metals.

Everyone seated at the table stood, muttering their respects before the man roughly nodded as a signal for them to sit down once more.

The man looked straight to the only woman in the room, his eyes glimmered in recognition but neither of them made the move to greet one another.

"We have a lead on the asset. Agents are to go directly to the site after this briefing. This will be short, we don't want the asset to move positions or change location." The sergeant informed them, he was speaking quickly and the soldiers in the room had gone wide-eyed.

Everyone except the woman looked surprised, some of them even looked bloodthirsty as the sergeant began running through background on the asset. As if the whole room wasn't informed of the past experiment created by Hydra.

The woman's eyes had changed, while her mouth stayed in a straight line. They looked steely as if she wasn't paying attention at all.

Her breathing pattern had changed slightly, it was quicker, more erratic.

Her nostrils flared ever so slightly as the man continued to speak of the asset.

He pointed to the screen, a blurry picture of a man with shaggy brown hair appeared. He was chained to a chair and he looked as if he was unconscious.

She froze, eyeing the photo with intensity as the sergeant gave a speech in order to rile up the agents.

Many of them smiled as they examined the picture and as the sergeant revealed a plan which would take the man down. A couple of the agents cheered, their eyes wild with bloodthirst and a rage which had been instilled in them since their initiation in the organization.

The woman did none of these things.  
She merely stared at the photo, her eyes fogged over with thought as her brain uncovered all of the information she knew about the asset.

His missions, his past, everything that had been done to him.

"Agent Gaz, I expect you are more than capable to run this mission?" The sergeant asked in his powerful voice.

The woman, Gaz, looked up the man, nodding her head ever so slightly.

The rest of the room looked to her as if they were expecting her to give them an order straight away.

Gaz merely stared at the picture, the feeling of an incoming explosion inside of her heart.

 _Finally._

A small smirk overtook her usually stoic expression, this caused many of the agents to smile.

"Suit up." She said firmly, her voice deeper than expected as she stood from her seat and exited the room without another word.

Behind her, the face of James Buchanan Barnes was plastered on the screen.

Gaz stood in the helicopter, her shoulder length hair now down and swaying violently from the wind coming in from the open door.

She wore her standard catsuit, her holster filled with a gun and her hand clutched a lethal looking knife.

Five other men sat in the helicopter. No one spoke or looked to one another.

Three of the men played with their weapons while the other two merely sat back with their eyes closed.

Gaz took a deep breath before cracking her neck and then turning to address her troops.

"The asset doesn't know we're coming. Do not shoot unless you are 100% sure you are going to hit him. We do not want him aware of our presence until he feels a bullet in his chest." She spoke harshly, her lips turned into a scowl as she waited for the agreement from her troop.

They all nodded firmly, all having an immediate obligation to follow all of her orders.

"We will land at the military base, they have been informed of our arrival and are willing to cooperate. From there, we'll take a van to where the asset is believed to be living. We will enter the building silently, alerting no one of our presence. There is no assigned shooter in this mission. Whoever is closest, will be the one to make the shot. I hand selected each of you, I expect you to be able to carry out the job." She informed them, a cold superiority in her scolding voice.

She had the expression of someone who could murder a man with her pinky and have absolutely no objection to doing so.

The team stared at her, wide-eyed and nodding.

For three of them, this was their first mission.

If she wasn't an expert in her job, the sergeant would have protested bringing new recruits on such a vital mission. But, her status allowed her to make any decision she wanted with the full trust of the organization. Each decision she made held a significant reason, just as the decision she had made for this mission held significant meaning.

Which meant she would finally be able to make a difference in the damned world.

"Soldier 304, enter the left door. Soldier 724, enter the right door. Two of you, go to the other side of the building and stand guard. He will try to escape. We can not let him. 492, come with me." Gaz informs her soldiers, using their numbers. They didn't have names, at least not yet. Once you enter Hydra, you lose your identity, you become a number, a weapon. You only regain a name once you become a high enough rank, and even then it is only a code name. If there's one thing Hydra's good at, it's stripping you of all of your humanity.

Gaz was a perfect example. Her number was 593, she kept that number until she became sergeant major. Once she did earn a high title she only earned a code name. Gaz; short for gazelle. The command sergeant major had given it to her. She had no other choice but to take it gratefully. It was to the point where she hadn't heard anyone say her real name in over a decade.

The soldiers easily obeyed orders, the four of them who were ordered to positions eagerly went to their posts. Soldier 492 stood directly next to his sergeant and awaited further instruction.

She opened her mouth as if to ask him if he was ready, but thought against it and instead looked up at the apartment building which resembled a warehouse.

The soldier followed, needing no instruction to know that he needs to follow his superior.

Gaz approached the door, her hand encasing the cold metal of the doorknob.

It turned, it wasn't locked.

She stopped suddenly, not locked wouldn't work for her.

She needed to break the door down and break the door down she would.

"Locked," She told 492, looking over her shoulder briefly to see if he had noticed how the knob had turned.

He hadn't noticed a damn thing, most newbies didn't. That's why she liked them so much. It was so much easier to get away with things when you were surrounded by people who automatically trusted you because of your rank.

Gaz took a few steps back, her body angled sideways towards the door.

Abruptly, she slammed her body into the door and it flew open with relative ease. Which made sense since it was unlocked.

The impact had made a loud bang, exactly what she had wanted.

"Third floor. I'll be the one to go in, you stand guard." She told the soldier shortly, eyeing the flights of stairs.

The soldier merely gave a curt nod before going running before her on the stairs, his gun loaded and pointed in front of him.

Gaz followed swiftly behind, her hand still holding the knife and her other hand lightly touching her holstered gun.

The soldier stopped on the third floor, stepping aside to allow Gaz to enter the hallway.

"Stand down here at the end. If he runs out of the door, don't hesitate to shoot." She told the soldier easily. Of course, he obeyed.

Gaz turned around, her back to the soldier as she eyed the apartment doors.

The Asset's was room 310.

She walked down the hall, her eyes on the right side of doors.

302, 304, 306, 308.

She stopped, the numbers on the door of 310 had been ripped off, only a shadow remained.

She absentmindedly shook her head, what a stupid way to raise suspicion.

Taking a deep, yet unnoticeable breath, her hand touched the doorknob.

Locked.

She couldn't exactly break this one down, especially since there was a slight chance he may still be in there.

She didn't want him getting the wrong idea.

So, she reached inside of her suit, pulling out a credit card.

She could feel the soldier's eyes on her as she slid the card between the door and the wall. But, he wouldn't dare ask what she was doing.

The door unlocked with surprising ease.

 _If you're on the run,_ she thought, _you should choose a place with good locks._

She slowly opened the door, slipping her body inside of the small entry way she had created.

The apartment was small, it only took one glance to see the whole of it.

But, she wasn't focused on the apartment. She was focused on the man who was aiming a rifle at her.

Her countenance remained calm as she slowly lifted her arms in the air.

The asset eyed her, his breathing heavy and erratic and his eyes wild.

"You need to run," She told him, her voice soft, so soft he almost hadn't heard her instruction.

He stared at her, looking extremely bewildered.

About half a minute passed before her gaze grew more intense, "Didn't you hear me? You need to _run._ Far away from here, as far away as you can get. Go out through the window, there's no one there guarding." She whispered once more, harsher this time as she tried to convey a plea.

His eyes remained wide, his human hand shaking ever so slightly on the trigger of the gun.

She remained calm, if he was to shoot her, she would kindly embrace death.

His eyes were dark as they met hers. But they weren't like all of the other dark eyes she had seen. They were afraid.

" _Run,"_ She repeated, her teeth gritted.

His gaze softened, resembling that of a scolded puppy.

His eyes narrowed, some of his long brown hair falling into his face.

And then he turned, and he ran like hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**1 Year Later**

A loud thump echoed throughout a closed off room.

It was followed by light footsteps, a slight change in the air, and then the sound of a swift kick to a punching bag.

This routine was constant for about forty-five minutes before something changed.

Whoever was making the attack was now breathing slightly heavier and had stopped momentarily.

Behind the cold metal door of the room, a woman could be seen pressing a white towel to her face.

She turned her neck, cracking the bones.

Bad habit.

As she did so, loose blonde hairs fell from the two braids which were pinned onto her head. They resembled a crown, as someone had told her earlier.

She distinctly remembered shooting the particular soldier a dirty look before carrying on down the hallway.

She smirked at the memory, shaking her head slightly.

She moved her thin, yet muscular, arm towards her water bottle. As she extended her arm, there was a small mark that could be seen. Upon closer inspection it was easy to tell that it was a brand, burned into the skin of her inner wrist by hot metal. It simply read: _593_.

Gaz paid no attention to this, she seemed to have forgotten it.

"Agent Gaz, please report to room 145."

The robotic voice of the building's operator filled the empty room.

Gaz was glad the room was empty, that way no one was able to see the look of pure fear which overtook her angular features.

Her slightly tanned skin turned pale as her breathing stopped, her eyes glossed over.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly very dry as she took a shaky breath.

"Agent Gaz, please report to room 145." The voice repeated in the same tone but Gaz couldn't help but imagine an underlying threat in the words.

"Agent Gaz reporting to room 145." Her voice was unexpectedly steady as she placed her water bottle back down on the bench.

With her shoulders back and her head high, she reached underneath of her towel. Her cold fingers grasped the barrel of the handgun easily.

Pulling it from its hiding place, she quickly placed it in the waistband of her yoga pants and promptly covered it with the hoodie she was wearing.

It wasn't like anyone would question her. She was always seen with a weapon on her somewhere. But this weapon's use wasn't planned for standard hydra operation.

In other words, the weapon which pressed beside her hip was unauthorized. This was the only weapon they were unaware of that she owned.

It was her only element of surprise.

If she was to be reporting to room 145, there was a chance a surprise would make the difference between life and death.

She exited the empty training room, her strides long and determined.

There were only two guards in the hallway which she walked down. Both of them nodded to her as a sign of respect.

She took this as a good sign, _they wouldn't nod to me if I was going to room 145 to be executed_ , she reasoned.

But then a flood of thoughts entered her already inundated mind.

 _They already knew,_ she thought, _they're just nodding so I put my guard down._

Or, _they didn't know,_ another thought crept up to her, _they were merely performing the standard procedure._

Either way, every paranoid scenario her brain created ended in imminent death to her.

Or worse, slow, burning torture. Which was more Hydra's style if she was being honest with herself.

When she entered the stairwell she took each stair two at a time, her long legs descending the staircase easily.

Before she knew it, she had taken at least five flights of stairs to the lowest level of the building.

The building was underground, hidden away from the outside world. It was a mass area of land which no one in the area knew of. Above it, stood a deteriorating shack which no one entered because there were rumors it was haunted by demons.

If only they knew that 20 feet below, there were things much worse than demons at work.

But, that measly 20 feet was only the highest most level. Anyone in the Hydra organization could enter that level.

A couple levels down was when you needed identification, very light identification at that.

It was mostly housing for agents and a couple recreational rooms.

Below that stood offices that contained slightly higher ranked agents who worked hard to try to keep up with the big wigs.

Even lower, stood the debriefing rooms. Many of the higher ranking officers work there and trained there. That level was purely dedicated to agents and their missions.

And at the lowest point, there stood two guards who protected a large metal door. Beyond it, there were horrors so intricate many of the sickest minds would be disgusted.

Basically, imagine how bad something is if you have to put it on the lowest level of your already underground building.

Gaz was originally on the agent training level, so she only had to go down a few flights of stairs to reach the lowest level.

Unsurprisingly, there was a large guard standing at the end of the staircase.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her approaching figure.

She kept her expression straight as her right hand reached for the collar of her high-necked hoodie.

Slowly, she pulled it down, revealing her collarbone.

On her collarbone sat a brand similar to the one on her inner wrist.

Except, this one was much larger, much more territorial.

A significantly sized hydra logo sat atop her collarbone, signifying her high status.

It was an honor to get the Hydra brand. Only the highest agents were allowed. Once you were allowed, you were expected to get it immediately. There was a ceremony for the procedure and everything. Instead of screaming in agony, you were expected to take the searing pain as a privilege, one your inferiors pined after.

Gaz remembered the day vividly, despite her desire to forget it.

Occasionally, it would still haunt the four hours of sleep which she attempted to get every night.

The guard needed no more identification besides her brand.

There were only thirty Hydra officials who held the brand. According to the Sergeant Major of Hydra, she was the youngest to ever receive it.

"You are free to enter, Agent Gaz." The man spoke, knowing her code name.

Gaz gave the man a curt nod, a scowl covering her lips.

The man stepped aside, allowing Gaz to enter the metal door.

She had to open the door herself, she pressed her thumb to the pad beside the lock before placing her hand on the knob.

This was their way of tracking everyone who entered and exited the room, despite the fact that only 30 people had the clearance to actually step inside the doorway.

She slipped into the room, closing the door shut tightly behind her.

An overwhelming chill took over her body, the room had to be at least twenty degrees colder than the stairwell. She resisted the urge to shiver as she turned around, goosebumps immediately covered her scarred skin.

When she faced the room she was met with 29 other people. She froze, only for a fraction of a second. Everyone who was authorized to be in the room was there. Something big was going to happen. She only hoped it didn't involve her.

Taking a few more steps, she moved deeper into the room. She took account of everyone's expressions. No one noticed her presence, and if they did notice they didn't care enough to look at her.

The 29 other members in the room were all staring at something she couldn't see, something obscured by a large metal slab she knew was used for a special kind of torture.

She tried to keep her heart rate steady as she approached the unsettling vigil crowd. Each footstep she made sounded in the room, only adding to her paranoia as she joined the throng of people.

She took as deep of a breath she could take without raising suspicion, her eyes were focused on her tennis shoe covered feet.

 _Slowly,_ she told herself, _slowly look up._

She did just that, raising her head painfully slow as she pressed her hands to her side to prevent them from shaking.

Her eyes looked straight ahead and she stopped all movement, her hands ceased to shake and her chest had ended its sporadic breathing pattern.

Above the heads of the members she saw a large device, it was a chair but on this level of Hydra, nothing had such an innocent use.

Connected to it was a large circular piece of metal, it was held by two threatening pieces of steel. It was surrounded by computers, all silently working and monitoring. A Hydra doctor stood before them, tapping the computers with ease. A light humming could be heard from the chair, a light hum of electricity if Gaz had to guess. The computers must have been used to control the shocks of electricity which would be distributed to whoever was seated, or tied down, to the chair. Most likely the latter.

The device was deadly, obviously.  
But that wasn't what bothered her. Not in the slightest.  
The chair wasn't empty.

Just as she had thought, the prisoner wasn't simply sitting down.

His body was restrained by leather. It held down the arms, the legs, and the chest of the prisoner.

After Gaz passed over the body restraints her eyes settled on the most unnerving part of the device.

The victim's head was being compressed by two defibrillators. The victim's eyes were wide and it's chest heaved as a mouthpiece was forced between its teeth.

Gaz's expression remained unreadable, a skill of hers, as she analyzed the victim.

Long brown shaggy hair, a metal arm with a red star, violent scars littered across all revealed skin.

The Asset.

Gaz's heart pounded in her chest as another doctor approached the Asset, a clipboard in his hands. The other doctor remained by the computer, looking to his colleague for a sign as to when he should activate the machine.

The doctor's back was to Gaz but she didn't have any trouble guessing who it may have been. There were only so many doctors who were allowed down onto the lowest level so narrowing it down was simple.

But, she didn't have time to focus on the doctor, she was too busy watching the man she attempted to save being prepped for torture.

His eyes were scanning the room, wide and fearful.

Gaz stared at him, he had yet to notice her.

The doctor checked something off on his clipboard and placed his pen inside of the pocket of his white lab coat.

Gaz couldn't look away, she didn't want him to see her, but she couldn't stop herself from seeing him.

He looked down the center of the room, some of her brown hair sticking to his forehead due to a light sheen of sweat.

The doctor turned to the man at the computer, his arms lifting.

The Asset's eyes settled, he had spotted her.

Gaz's breath caught in her throat as she saw his expression.

She had never seen anything like it. His face was a mixture of betrayal, confusion and the desire to murder her with a single blow to the head.

She was going to be sick.

"Go!" The doctor spoke, pointing to the doctor at the computer with intensity.

The doctor at the computer pressed a button with one swift movement and in a fraction of a second The Asset with writhing and screaming in pain.

Gaz almost took half a step towards him, wanting to do something to help.

She stopped herself, she would be no good to him dead and if she were to show any emotion towards him in a room full of hydra agents, she would definitely be killed. She certainly wasn't about to destroy over a decade of work because of a stupid instinct.

She stared on straight faced as his screams filled the room. However, she didn't look at him. She looked at the wall behind him instead. She couldn't do it.

Besides, she knew somehow, it was her fault he was captured.

She had been working for a year to get Hydra off of his trail. Clearly, she didn't work hard enough.

Suddenly, the screaming stopped and Gaz's attention was brought back to the man in the torture device.

The main doctor was forcing The Asset into a sitting position.

Gaz forced herself to look at his face, despite how much she desperately didn't want to see the same expression she had seen minutes before.

However, she wasn't greeted with the look of betrayal and bloodlust, she was met with an empty stare that looked right on past her.

She was _definitely_ going to be sick.

Two hours had passed and Gaz still remained in 145.

She had to sit through a forty-five-minute briefing on the method which was performed on the Asset. She hadn't heard too much of it since she was too focused on his blank eyes.

But, what she had heard was alarming, to say the least. Yet, not very surprising.

The electric shock sent through his brain was designed to make him forget what had happened since his last capture. It was another one of Hydra's brainwashing technique.

They were treating him like a machine they needed to reprogram.

However, their lack of consideration made perfect sense. Hydra wasn't known for treating any of its' operatives or enemies as human beings.

Besides that, Gaz hadn't remembered any of the briefings that the doctor had given proudly.

All that she remember, all that was etched into her mind rather, were the gray eyes of the Asset as he looked on idly.

After the briefing, the officials were free to ask questions or say whatever they thought would relate to the subject.

There were about thirty minutes of that in which Gaz remained silent and tried to look at everything except for the Asset.

After that, everyone spoke to one another. They offered congratulations to the commanding sergeant who had captured him and spoke of what to do next.

Gaz offered little to no conversation with anyone. Which was normal for her, luckily. No one was suspicious of her lack of communication since it was just normal for her.

Many of the men in the room feared her, so she didn't have to worry about anyone trying to talk to her.

The only one who she would listen to and slightly respond to was the commanding sergeant.

He was her boss and technically a father figure since he raised her from a young age.

"Were you training?" He asked her curiously, approaching her and eyeing her workout attire.

She simply nodded a short, curt nod.

"Sorry for pulling you out of it. I just thought you'd want to see this." He apologized, speaking less formally since the room wasn't paying attention to them.

"I did," She lied easily. Lying was second nature now. She wasn't even sure she'd know what to do if she was honest for once.

He continued to look at her, waiting for a further comment.

She took a breath, "Very interesting technique. I'm impressed." She told him firmly, lying straight through her teeth.

He smiled at the compliment, "Doctor Brukshov worked very hard on perfecting the method." He informed her.

Gaz turned to him now, sensing this was an easy way to gain information.

"Perfecting?" She questioned.

"Yes. They used a similar method when they took it from the ice. It made it forget it's life before they found it. A clean slate." The Commander explained, a twinge of pride in his didn't fail to notice the way that the Commander referred to the Asset as "it". Once again, Hydra showed its dislike for considering people as human beings.

She nodded in understanding, "So, Why did they need to wipe it this time?" She asked, using the same impersonal and degrading pronoun.

The Commander seemed satisfied with her question, "We have a mission for it. We've had a mission for it for awhile. It just kept escaping our grasps and we were unable to give the mission to it." He told her, making her mind race as to what the mission was.

"Not many people know. It's extremely confidential. I assume you are able to keep the secret?" He asked, by his tone of voice and the slight smirk he already knew the answer.

Gaz merely quirked one eyebrow in response before returned to her unreadable expression.

He chuckled at this, "I should have known. Well, the mission is relatively simple. Tonight, we will order it to kill the Captain." The Commander announced, his chest out boastfully as he told her the news.

Gaz once again held her surprise in easily at the news.

It wasn't hard for her to deduce who "The Captain," may be.

"When will he be assigned the mission?" Gaz pried, knowing that it was a risk to ask such a question. She didn't usually push for more information. She hoped the Commander would think she was just starting to take an interest in things.

But, he seemed to be pulling away from her as he gave a vague answer, "We aren't sure yet. There needs to be a meeting."

Gaz didn't respond, saying anything else would be too dangerous. She didn't want to seem even more interested than she had already showed him

However, she couldn't help but wonder why a single question made him show signs of suspicion towards her. Was he doubting her allegiance?

If he was, she didn't blame him. She had been doubting her allegiance for years. He certainly wasn't the first.


	3. Chapter 3

**Just for clarity, all words that are in italics are either italicized for emphasis or are Gaz's thoughts.**

 **Enjoy-**

The room was on fire.

The flames danced in the night, illuminating the walls and casting shadows on items which would soon be engulfed by the fire.

A young child stood near the inferno, watching with wide brown eyes.

She stared at the conflagration that was slowly taking over everything in the room she stood in.  
If she didn't move soon, she too would become one with the flame.

She seemed frozen in time. One of her legs was stepping in front of the other and her arm was slightly outstretched, as if she was moving towards to help someone or something. Her lips were parted and words hung loosely from them, never to be spoken.

Her eyes were focused on a certain point in the burning room. They were unmoving and filled with the strongest fear she had ever felt in her entire life.

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked directly ahead of her, but they never fell.

Following her line of vision, she was focused on two oddly shaped pieces of furniture which were scorched and emitting flames of their own.

Upon closer observation, it was clear that the furniture wasn't furniture at all. It was two human bodies. Two unidentifiable bodies which were connected at the hand, both burning together at a quick pace. Their skin was already charred and their hair was long gone.

The girl seemed entranced, her chest heaving as she gaped at the pair.

Flames were now nipping at the bottom of her nightdress, charring the material as soon as they touched it.

Some of the skin on her legs had been ghosted over by the flame, already creating burn marks which she didn't notice.

Her mouth had closed and her arms now hung loosely by her side, her shoulders slumped as she wobbled slightly.

She didn't look like she had plans to move anytime soon.

The untamed fire was approaching her at a fast speed, already encircling her where she stood.

Her eyes closed suddenly and she took a deep breath, her legs starting to shake in opposition to the pain the fire was causing her.

She was preparing to throw herself towards the bodies, to leap for them and place her hand atop where theirs once were.

Before she had the chance, she felt two arms wrap around her torso. She was pulled back from the flames and from the bodies. Her body was limp as the arms pulled her close to a body.

She began to feel the delirium which was caused by the smoke surrounding her. Her head was swaying as she tried to keep it up. Her eyes were open, but slowly closing again.

She looked up, seeing a man with a mask. Except, he was taking the mask off and pressing it against her own face. He carried her down the hall, the whole home was drowning in the flames and he was swimming through it effortlessly.

She felt that she was able to take a clean breath with the mask firmly pressed against her nose and mouth.  
She continued to breathe but the urge to drift off into unconsciousness was too strong for her to resist.

She looked up, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks due to the sweat the fire caused. She blinked up at the man, noticing that his eyes were surrounded by dark black war paint and his hair was long and brown, almost down to his shoulders.

She turned her head, only slightly, before it fell promptly onto the arm of the man who was carrying her.

She was greeted with the cold and hard surface of metal against her head as she senselessly fell onto the arm of her savior.

Gaz awoke with a start, her heart beating rapidly and her chest heaving as she tried to get in a breath. She was covered in a light sheen of glimmering sweat. The lamp which lay on her bedside table was on, only making her body look as if it was shimmering. She eyed the lamp with the same brown eyes from her dream. The light resembled the flame, orange and unforgiving.

Quickly, Gaz turned the light off with a shaking hand before sitting up in her bed.

She pushed her blonde hair out of her face as she frantically looked around the room. There were no more flames. More importantly, there were no bodies.

She recalled the dream unintentionally, wincing as she did so.

It had felt so real. It always felt so real.

The urge to cry cut into her, but just like in the dream, no tears came.

Gaz took a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily as she counted down from 100.

Slowly, but surely, her heart rate and breathing pattern returned to normal and her hands had stopped their shaking.

She opened her eyes slowly, scanning the room one last time before falling back against the soft pillow.

Once again, she was reminded of the nightmare.

Instead of falling against the soft pillow, she was falling against the cold metal.

The same cold metal of the arm of the man whom she had been monitoring all week.

One long week.

The Commander didn't hold onto his uncertainty for very long. Actually, it was only the next day that she was asked onto the project.

After some time thinking, she began to wonder if this was because the Commander actually trusted her or if there were only so many people that had the clearance to act on the project.

If he didn't trust her, he did a very good job at hiding it. He continued to give her the most warmth he could muster like he always did.

That wasn't exactly important at the time being. She had spent her days monitoring the Asset behind a one-way mirror. She watched him being tortured, she sat idly by as they beat him into unconsciousness. Not only that, she had to take notes on the beatings and how they affected him. She had to do it all with a straight face and pretend that she didn't recognized the long brown hair and the silver metal that made up his prosthetic arm.

Gaz swallowed, cringing at one particularly painful blow to the head that he had suffered earlier in the day.

Her hands were back to shaking lightly at the memory, and her heart rate had increased ever so slightly.

A familiar wave of self-hatred had rushed over her, nearly knocking her down from the force.

 _He saved me,_ she thought, _He risked his life to save me and this is how I repay him?_

 _I owe him. I owe him my life._

The painful thoughts hit her mind like daggers.

She owed him a debt, an unrepayable debt. Yet, she stood by and watched as he suffered, and even took notes on which methods brought him the most pain.

 _I can't do it anymore._

She swallowed, the thought of it making her dizzy.

 _I owe him, I owe him, I owe him._ Her brain repeated the words over and over until she wanted to scream.

She felt close to being ill with the guilt that flooded her stomach. Her head throbbed with the words of her debt.

Finally, the words began to dim as another sentence took its place.

A promise, a way to repay him.

A way to repay the man who had saved her life when he was supposed to end it.

 _I have to get him out of here._


	4. Chapter 4

"Agent Gaz! We need you down in 145 for monitoring!" A loud voice boomed after her as Gaz walked down the hallway.

She turned sharply in the direction of the voice, seeing the Commander staring back at her.

She stayed where she stood but said from the distance, "Right away, Sir."

The Commander proceeded to tip his hat to her before turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction.

Gaz turned as well, her body angled towards the staircases which would take her to the lowest level.

She jogged down the stairs, her heels clicking loudly with every step against the metal of each stair.

The same guard stood at the end of the staircase. He did the same procedure as yesterday, and she had to show him, once again, the brand on her collarbone.

He gave the same expressionless nod before addressing her by her codename and allowing her to enter the floor.

When she walked on past the metal door she was greeted with the same lab and torture devices she had seen a week before.

She tried not to look at the chair she had seen the Asset tied down to, and she definitely tried to not notice the blood stains that littered the concrete floor.

With her head held straight and her posture perfect, Gaz walked to the back of the room. She turned suddenly, walking down a dark and concealed hallway which would lead her to the monitoring room.

The hallway was completely empty, as it usually was. Many of the doctors remained in the observation room or in the torture chamber. While the clearance officials stayed in their offices or sat in conferences.

She only had to walk a few yards before she reached the thick metal door which hid the observation room.

Gaz easily pushed open the heavy door, not bothering to knock since she knew no one else inhabited the area hidden behind the metal.

She didn't have to open it very wide until she was able to slip inside. She never opened doors widely, it was a habit she couldn't break.

Closing the door behind her with a loud click, she turned her head to the right, looking at the one way mirror.

Her body froze with what she saw.

Suddenly, she felt connected to the child in her dream as she stood unmoving with her eyes wide.

The Asset was laying in the corner, his muscular body curled as if he was trying to make himself so small he would disappear.

He appeared to be sleeping, but Gaz knew he was most likely passed out due to the high amount of pain he had been enduring.

He wore only green cargo pants that were caked in dark red blood. She wished he was wearing something else because without a shirt his wounds were much more noticeable.

He had large gashes across his chest, the wounds still open and bleeding freely.

Once she passed over the fresh lacerations, her eyes wandered to the scars that seemed to cover every piece of skin.

His metal arm was curled into his chest, the metal itself also splattered with his own blood.

She swallowed at the disturbing sight, still scanning the damage done to his body.

Again, her eyes stopped as she distinguished a familiar mark against his collarbone.

A brand, almost exactly like hers, sat directly atop the bone.

Except his looked like it was melting. The skin was red, freshly burned as blisters covered the wound.

She winced, feeling a sting of pain upon her own mark just at the thought of having it burned off.

"Soldier!" A voice screamed.

Gaz jumped and tore her eyes away from the wall, fearing that she was being addressed.

But, instead of being yelled at, she heard a terrible groan.

Once more, she looked up at the scene, feeling a strong urge to throw up.

The doctor stood threateningly over the injured man who was slowly awakening.

Due to the way he was clutching his ribs with his metal arm, he must have been kicked awake.

Gaz wished to press her hands against the one-way mirror, to pound her fists against the wall and scream out.

But, she merely blinked and forced herself to walk over to the desk where her notebook and pen were placed out for her.

She pulled out the chair, the squeal of the metal making her cringe before she sat down on the rough surface.

She opened the notebook and placed the pen between her slender fingers, starting to write.

The doctor proceeded to kick The Asset until he sat upright, wincing in pain the whole time he did so.

The doctor leaned down, for a second Gaz thought stupidly that he was going to help him up. Instead, he slapped him across the cheek and yelled something in Russian which she was unable to catch due to the wall that restricted her ability to hear clearly.

The doctor slipped his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and Gaz took the opportunity to look at the prisoner. Although he was covered in injuries, some of which were still fresh and bleeding, he kept his expression straight.

He looked directly ahead, showing no emotion as the doctor revealed a lethal looking knife.

The knife was long and sharp, curved only slightly to add precision.

Gaz closed her eyes, not meaning to and certainly not wanting to.

She couldn't watch anymore, she simply couldn't do it.

And she cursed herself for it. She was stronger than this. She was stronger than every damn agent in this building. That's why she made it this far. It wasn't because she was talented or charismatic it was because she was strong.

But for some reason just couldn't face herself to watch the knife being brought down upon his skin.

She didn't have to see it to know it was terrible, the tortured and guttural scream that emerged from the prisoner was enough.

Her eyes remained screwed shut, her grip on the pencil so tight her knuckles were becoming white.

The screaming ceased altogether and Gaz slowly opened a single eye, her vision coming back into focus.

She opened both eyes, narrowing them as she tried to figure out where the doctor had cut him.

The body of the doctor obscured her vision of where he had been sliced and she was slightly glad she couldn't see it yet.

She quickly wrote down what had happened in her notebook of records. But she barely paid attention to what she was writing and scribbled down the words in a hurry as she looked back up to see what was happening.

The doctor turned away, giving Gaz the full view of the victim.

She gasped involuntarily as she saw the damage that had been done.

His collarbone once scarred over and blistered was now seeping blood which spilled all the way down his chest.

Gaz took a shaky breath as her eyes remained fixated on the new wound.

 _I have to get him out of here_.

She repeated the words in her mind throughout the rest of the session, even mouthing them during the particularly bad lashes he received.

For once in her life she felt weak, she felt guilty, she felt emotion she had been trying to bury away since she was a child.

She couldn't help but stare at the man who had saved her. He looked exactly the same as he had when he carried her out of a burning house away from her parents who had burned willingly in the flame.

She could do nothing but watch at this point and it made her sick.

Another painful hour later, the doctor exited the room and Gaz stilled.

Her shift was over once the doctor left. After the session was over she was free to return to her quarters or have a training session.

Gaz closed the notebook with force, slamming the pen down on the table before standing from the chair.

The squeal of the metal on the concrete didn't bother her as it had before, her mind was too focused on her other worries.

She brought her hand up to her ear, pressing the button on the ear piece which allowed her to communicate with the central command.

"Permission to monitor prisoner from inside the torture chamber." She spoke firmly, stating the sentence as a command and not a question.

She only had to wait about a minute or two. She spent the time picking up the notebook and pen and pressing them firmly against her chest while she awaited a response.

"Permission granted." A voice allowed finally.

She didn't respond, she merely walked towards the door and opened it the same way as she did before.

Once she was on the other side of the door, she stopped momentarily.

Her head lifted as she scanned the hallway.

There was only one camera and she was not in its line of vision yet.

Once she stepped beyond the doorway she could be spotted by the people in the control room.

However, that didn't matter since she sought express permission.

But, it would be an issue once she entered the torture chamber.

There were two cameras in the room, both pointed in the direction of the prisoner.

The cameras contained all around the clock surveillance and also maintained audio feedback.

That would be a little difficult to go around.

She tapped her fingers against her notebook as she stood in the false safety of the doorway.

There were no cameras situated on the right wall, the wall that the prisoner sat in front of.

Her grasp clutched her pen even tighter.

She had an idea.

Opening her notebook, she pressed her pen down to the paper.

She scribbled down figure notes on four different sheets of paper away from the eyes of the cameras.

Stepping forward, she returned to the military posture and countenance she had perfected.

There were only about twenty steps or so until she would reach the door to the chamber.

But each step increased her heart rate at an alarming rate.

Once she reached the door, she was afraid her heart was going to leap from her chest due to its rapid movement.

She pressed her thumb against the cold keypad and it beeped to show that it recognizes her print.

Once the door was unlocked, her hand surrounded the doorknob, slowly turning it as she pressed her body against the door to open it.

The door opened with a click and she slid inside immediately.

She didn't want to turn around.

She didn't want to see him.

But if she didn't it was going to make her plan even more difficult to carry out.

So, she turned around to face the beaten man who was staring at her blankly.

She clenched her jaw at the sight, smelling the blood that had fallen to the floor and that pooled on his skin.

She turned away from the cameras, they could only see the back of her now.

Her expression and what she did with her arms would be undetectable to them if she moved stealthily.

The man looked up at her, his teeth gritted and his eyes blanked.

He was expecting her to beat him like they had done before.

But, instead, she opened her notebook and held it closely to her chest.

There were words scribbled down in a haste but he was able to read them.

"I don't want to hurt you." It read, the letters in swirled cursive.

Gaz could tell he understood by the way his brow furrowed and he looked up at her with a slightly confused expression.

Gaz quickly flipped the page, revealing another scribbled note.

"They think I'm here to torture you. I will have to slap you so they don't get suspicious. Do you understand?"

He read the next sign quickly, his eyes skimming the words at a fast pace.

Once again, he met her eyes as he looked up at her.

He moved his head barely downwards before looking back up at her with a hesitant expression.

She took that as a yes and flipped the page again.

"Can you fight?"

He read this sign even quicker than the last one before repeating his earlier action except with a bit more distinction.

She felt the side of her lips upturn at his confidence before quickly returning to her scowl.

With one last flip of a page, she showed him her last note.

"I'm getting you out of here tonight. Be ready."

Once she was sure he read it she closed the notebook and placed it firmly at her side.

Without any warning, she brought her hand down firmly against his cheek and the sound of a violent slap filled the room.

His eyes remained glued to hers and as she hit him, he didn't even flinch.


	5. Chapter 5

**SilverShadowWolf46: I agree, Bucky deserves a break! He finally gets a bit of good news in this chapter! :) Thank you for reviewing!**

Five hours had passed since Gaz's interaction with the prisoner.

As she remembered this fact a thought suddenly shot into her mind.

 _I should probably start calling him something different,_ she criticized herself. She wasn't like Hydra, that was her whole point in the rescue mission. She needed to give him his identity, she wouldn't objectify him like the organization had been doing.

She knew his nickname was Bucky, But she also knew his full name was James. She had no idea what he would prefer to be called, or if he even remembered his name from his past life.

Identity or not, she was hellbent on getting him out of there.

She was determined to save the man who had saved her and she would do whatever it took to get him out of here safely. Even if it meant her own life she would do it, besides trying to repay her debt to him she hadn't had much to live for the past decade.

However, she didn't look very much like a woman with a mission.

Currently, she looked like a little girl. She was sat on the ground in front of her main door, her head laying against her knees as she rocked slightly back and forth.

Her body was curled into a small ball, her tiny stature making the position easy.

Her breathing was heavy and the pattern was easily seen by the way her back heaved outward with each exhale.

Her hands were at her side since her head was rested against her knees. But, knives were rotating between the fingers of both of her hands.

She twisted the handles with skill, the blades slicing through the air. She absentmindedly played with the knives like one would tie a rope to pass the time.

She took rhythmic deep breaths as her fingers slowed the rapid movement of the knives.

Suddenly, her fingers stopped twirling and the knives became clutched firmly in her grasp.

Her breathing was controlled and shallow as she raised her head from her curled position.

She jumped into a standing position in one fluid movement, her body moving in the way only a trained assassin would be capable.

She stood, deadly looking knives clutched in both hands, making her knuckles white. Her knees were locked as she stood, her head held straight and her face unreadable.

There was no trace of the girl who had been curled in a ball just a minute previously within the woman who now stood strong and resilient.

She turned her head to her side, her loose blonde hair flying around her.

She examined the apartment, the cold grayness of it all.

She had lived in it for several years and it had not changed a single bit.

She didn't have any personal items to hold onto, she didn't have mementos, she didn't have books or anything that she could call her own.

She had her mandated clothes, her knives, some hair ties, and a toothbrush.

Besides that and some basic hygiene products, she didn't have anything else.

The only item that could possibly be considered her own would be the gun Hydra didn't know about. That was the only part of her they hadn't tried to control.

That was about to change.

She grabbed a black backpack from inside her linen closet and stormed into the bedroom.

Opening her clothing closet, she grabbed some athletic pants and two black t-shirts, all of which were hydra assigned.

Gaz's brown eyes scanned the closet as she searched for a larger shirt, something that… James could possibly use.

James sounded right.

She crouched down to the floor, surprisingly enough, finding a couple folded shirts for men.

Her mind wandered back to her early years in Hydra. There were three men whom she had used to occupy her time.

But that didn't matter now, all that mattered was the fact that they had left behind some shirts.

After placing two men's shirts in the bag, she threw in a sports bra for sleeping and running purposes before diving deeper into the closet.

She carelessly pushed a collection of folded uniforms to the ground, revealing a black case.

Gaz took the black case in her hands and effortlessly carried it down from the shelf before turning around and carrying the case to her bed.

She placed it down upon the gray sheets and unlocked it with nimble fingers.

The top of the case swung open, revealing a large collection of shining blades.

She examined the set carefully, her fingers ghosting over the handles of each one.

Finally, she removed the two most lethal-looking knives and set them down gently upon the bed.

Momentarily scanning the room, she saw the two knives which she had been holding earlier sat on her nightstand.

Gaz walked to them, picking the pair of knives up before approaching the black case and putting them in the empty spaces that the newly selected knives once occupied.

Her hand lightly touched the top of the case, seeming like she was going to close it.

But, at the last second, her other hand went to another knife and picked it up. Once she had the third knife in her grasp she clicked the case shut and returned it to its previous position on the shelf.

The three knives now lay in a line on her bed next to the black backpack which also sat on the bed.

Gaz left the bedroom for a few moments before returning to her spot in front of the bed.

Her hair was now braided down her back and she held a large first aid kit in her hands.

She proceeded to open the duffel bag, inside were the clothes she had selected. They were carefully folded and laid atop one another.

She placed the first aid kit into the bag, along with a sewing kit and a bottle of Vicodin.

Gaz removed the first aid kit suddenly, opening the lid and grabbing the third knife she had selected.

She placed the knife inside of the kit, finding it to be a perfect fit.

Closing the lid with a snap, it was once again placed inside of the backpack.

Gaz looked to the two knives on her bed, those would have to wait until she suited up.

The backpack remained open as Gaz exited the room again, she silently entered the kitchen where she approached a cupboard.

Scouring the cabinets, she came up with three medium sized packs of peanuts, at least a dozen protein bars, and several bottles of water.

She carried all of the supplies into the bedroom and placed them carefully inside of the bag. That would be enough to fill it to a comfortable amount.

Gaz stared at the bag, trying think of anything she could have forgotten.

Suddenly, she made a quick movement toward her pillow.

She slid her hand into the case that surrounded the pillowed, almost instantly feeling the wad of cash she kept hidden there.

Pulling it out, she looked at it.

It was a thick collection of 100 dollar bills. It was most of the money she had earned working with Hydra.

While their treatment was poor, they had a damn good paycheck.

Without further stalling, she opened the front pocket of the backpack and stuff the money inside of it.

All there was left to do was get suited up.

She zipped the backpack closed with finality before turning back to her closet, immediately spotting the black catsuit which hung on the inside of her closet door.

It hung proudly, hanging in a way that resembled a freshly pressed outfit that was planned for an interview the next day.

She eyed the outfit, frowning at the hydra logo but knowing that the thick material and various weapon holders would come in handy for her mission.

Within fifteen minutes she was dressed in the skin tight material, lacing up her black boots and putting on her thigh and rib holster.

She put on her leather belt which was designed to hold two of her knives.

Once her holders were in place she grabbed the two knives and easily slipped them into the sheath.

She had to walk to her nightstand to retrieve her non-Hydra issued gun, which she proceeded to place inside of her thigh holster.

Her other gun, hydra- issued, was on the kitchen counter.

Knowing this, Gaz grabbed the backpack and slung it over her shoulders, exiting the bedroom and closing the door tightly shut behind her.

Without even looking at the counter, she grabbed the gun and placed it effortlessly into the holster that was situated on the side of her left ribcage.

She walked onwards to the front door of her apartment, which technically she didn't even own.

 _Their_ _apartment_ , she reminded herself as she opened the door and slipped outside of it.

She began to close it, her body fully out of the apartment now.

But, she hesitated.

Slowly, her thin arm reached into the room between the small space of door that was open.

Her fingers searched for the light switch before she placed her index finger above the switch and pushed it down. The room went dark as her arm slipped from between the open door and closed with a click.

Surprisingly, none of the other agents or officials questioned her full suit or her backpack.

The suit wasn't that suspicious and the backpack wasn't that bad either. The fact that it was nearing 1 am, however, that probably seemed a bit disconcerting.

They simply allowed her to walk on freely.

Either they trusted her, were too intimidated to question her, or were too intimidated by her in general.

But, all of that didn't matter. She wasn't being questioned or shot at, she was allowed to roam freely.

And she roamed all the way down to the first floor.

She descended the stairs, remembering the guard suddenly.

If she went through the computer processor they would be alerted of her entering the room.

But, if she didn't use her thumbprint, she'd have to use someone else's.

She took her last few steps on the stairs, spotting the guard who stood in front of the metal door.

She stared at him as she always had, but stepped closer.

She hadn't gone all too close to him, the change was too subtle for him to notice.

He gave a nod, as to signify that she knew what to do.

Her right hand moved to her collar, lightly grazing the material.

It was then that she swung her leg in the air and kicked the man against the temple.

With the combined force of her muscles and the hard leather of her boot, the man was out within seconds.

Blood dripped from his temple and his hand twitched before stilling.

A part of Gaz wanted to check his pulse, make sure she hadn't accidentally killed him.

But, another part of her didn't care.

The part of her that didn't care won.

She merely grabbed the man by the arm and yanked his wrist up to the keypad, pressing his thumb firmly against the screen.

Somehow during the act she had felt the rhythmic pump of blood pumping through his veins and pushing against his skin.

So, she hadn't killed him.

She eyed the thumb pad, listening to the beep that allowed her access.

Then she remembered.

 _The keypad._ She cursed herself, the keypad allowed her into the torture chamber as well, not just into the floor.

Gaz gave a little sigh as if it annoyed her to have to take her knife from her sheath and bring it down against the thumb of the man.

At least it was a clean cut.

She slipped the thumb into a pocket in her suit before she slid open the door, taking the current lack of murder as a win for the day.

Her body entered the room and she was greeted by a darkened version of the torture room which she had been seeing almost every day now.

Shockingly, the room was much more terrifying in the dark.

All of the devices and machines looked like shadows within the dark room. Only the outlines of their shapes showed, making some of them look even more lethal with their sharp and jutting edges.

She kept her head down, knowing that there had to be cameras in the room but they were most likely in night vision due to the dark.

The night vision mode would make it harder for her to be identified, so she kept her head down and walked quickly to the concealed hallway that she had been in about six hours previous.

She had each camera position in the building memorized.

The hallway held two cameras, and there were two more in the chamber James was being held in.

The cameras in the halls were fine, for now.

However, the cameras in the chamber may be a bit of an issue.

Gaz's behavior in the hallway was going to be a lot less suspicious than her behavior in the chamber.

She would a find a way to resolve the issue. It wasn't exactly the biggest problem at hand.

As the thoughts filled her mind Gaz's legs took her to the door which locked James in.

She only realized it when she practically ran into the door.

 _If I'm going to do this,_ she thought, _I need to be focused._

Cursing herself, she grabbed the removed thumb from her pocket and pressed it against the keypad. Once the machine had beeped, allowing her entrance, she dropped the thumb to the ground and then opened the door.

One hand was on the door handle, while the other was resting on the handle of her gun.

Extremely quickly, Gaz was inside of the room.

James was sat up against the wall, his eyes shot open as soon as he had heard movement outside the door.

He looked at her, eyes narrowed as she aimed her gun at the camera.

One shot.

She repositioned the handgun so it was towards the second camera.

Another shot.

James flinched with each loud bang, his eyes flashing closed each time only for him to force them open.

"Do you remember me? Do you remember what I said?" Gaz asked, looking down to James who was eyeing her with curiosity.

He nodded, slowly. His expression remained bewildered as she extended her hand to the man.

He hesitated.

"Look, you don't have to trust me your whole life. You just need to trust me for the thirty minutes that it will take me to get you the hell out of here." She spoke firmly, her voice resonating against the concrete walls.

James took one last look at her, and then to the shot cameras, and then to her.

She held her hand out, giving her fingers some movement to signify that she was waiting.

Quickly, he grabbed her hand with his flesh one and she pulled him up with relative ease.

"Can you walk?" She asked, her arm going around his waist to support him since she thought he would be too weak to stand.

"Fast recovery time." He remarked, pulling away from her with a slight coldness and then pointing to the knife wound from earlier which was already scarring.

Gaz's eyes widened momentarily but she played off her shock, "Damn, tried to help someone." She muttered.

He didn't respond, and merely looked at her with an urging expression for her to carry on with a plan.

"There's a fire escape at the end of this hall if you turn right. It's going to be a lot of running and I bet there's already agents coming down here. Can you handle a gun?" She questioned, her free hand pressing down against the gun in her rib cage holster.

James knew her words meant, " _Can I trust you not to shoot me?"_

He nodded, watching as she easily took out the gun and handed it to him without further question.

He furrowed his brow slightly, _She trusts me,_ he wondered, confused, _She knows who I am, but she trusts me._

He didn't have much time to wonder, though, Gaz was already pushing past him and out through the door, which she left open for him.

He rushed out behind her, his gun in his flesh arm while he kept his metal arm empty and ready for attack.

"You'll have to run fast. We're going to come up in a forest. It'll be hard to lose them, but I think at least one of us will be able to make it, and it better be you." She told him, a sternness in her voice as she opened the door to the fire escape and allowed him in before closing it and locking it.

 _Better be me?_ He thought, watching as she locked the door quickly and then began running up the stairs in front of him. _What about her?_ He asked himself, following the small girl who had managed to break him out of the place with relative ease.

She was running at a ridiculously fast speed, James managed to keep up but he couldn't help but wonder where she got her stamina from.

He couldn't help but wonder everything about her, she was the only person who had shown him any kind of kindness in the past two years.

"Can you understand anything I'm saying? Do I need to speak Russian?" She questioned, a bit concerned by his lack of responses.

"I understand." He replied hoarsely, his bare feet pressing down against the cool metal.

She looked down to his feet, noticing how he would have no protection against the forest floor.

She was about to say something regarding his lack of footwear but the sound of a door crashing against a wall made her forget all about her remark.

"That's them, run faster." She directed, somehow picking up her already lightning speed.

He followed easily, turning around every few seconds at the sound of footsteps following them up the stairs.

"Not far now, a couple more cases," She mumbled, mostly to herself as a form of encouragement as her heart threatened to beat straight out of her chest and onto the floor.

Not because of the fast paced, she was fine with that.

Because of the fact that at least a dozen hydra agents were running up the steps, ready to kill the pair of them on sight.

She could see the large metal door and could even hear a slight chattering of crickets in the distance.

It would have been a nice moment if she wasn't running for her life.

"Turn left when we get out," She told him quietly as to not have the agents below them hear their plan.

She opened the door, pushing it open with the side of her body.

Suddenly, almost as a last ditch effort, a bullet fired and flew through the air. It flew directly in between Gaz and James, straight up and hitting the ceiling.

But, of course, before hitting the ceiling it grazed the side of Gaz's hip.

She winced involuntarily but besides that, she didn't show much of a reaction.

It was like she didn't notice it at all.

Actually, it was quite possible that she hadn't noticed it. She had grabbed James's metal hand with her empty one and pulled him to the left of the building, escaping into the vast collection of trees.


	6. Chapter 6

"Damn bastards shot me," Gaz muttered to herself angrily, her fingers lightly touching the tear in her suit.

The two of them were sitting on the cold floor of a cave. Bucky was leaning against the cave wall, his arms crossed across his chest as he eyed Gaz questioningly.

Gaz was sat beside him, no longer examining her wound. She was instead digging through the black backpack which now was positioned in her lap.

"I brought a first aid kit, thought you might need it." She told James dryly, grabbing the first aid and sewing kit, pulling them from the bag.

His eyes darted from her face to the kit.

 _It looked real,_ he reasoned, watching as she opened the kits and grabbed some of the supply items.

Her small fingers held a large bandage, which she promptly placed beside her before selecting the sewing kit.

Wordlessly, she selected the smallest needle and easily put a thin piece of black thread through the tiny hole of the needle.

Her body leaned towards James as she eyed the wound on his collarbone.

It was starting to heal but the gash was still open and bleeding slightly, which meant it would need stitches.

Without warning, Gaz pressed her cold fingers against the flesh beside the wound.

James jumped back suddenly, his eyes wide at her.

She pulled away from him promptly, her hands going up defensively, the threaded needle still between her right fingers.

"I'm trying to-" She began, not apologizing but explaining.

James cut her off abruptly, "Why are you helping me?" He questioned, his voice hoarse and rough.

Gaz looked at him, her expression didn't change. Which only made him more confused.

He could see the logo on her suit which the men who tortured him wore.

 _Was she one of them?_ He wondered.

"Because…" She said slowly, at a loss for words for once in her life.

Gaz knew there was little to no chance that James would remember the night he carried a little girl out of a burning house but the longer she waited to answer his question the more untrusting he was going to become.

"You saved me once," She said finally, staring at him with no emotion.

He furrowed her brows at her, uncertain.

"I saved you?" He asked.

Gaz nodded, "I was younger, a lot younger. There was a burning house and I was just… Standing there. You get the point." She finished weakly, attempting to give a flippant wave of her hand.

James didn't look like he bought the story, but he also didn't look like he completely believed she was lying. To sum it up, he looked entirely unsure about everything.

"You were able to break out of that place? Just like that?" He asked, changing the subject.

She sighed, she should have expected the suspicion.

"I've worked in the building for over ten years. I know it pretty well." It was the honest truth, but she didn't have any evidence with her that would back it up.

James looked at her, she was afraid he was going to continue to list off suspicious activities or merely tell her straight out that he didn't believe her and then maybe follow up by murdering her.

But, he didn't do any of that.

He merely looked down to the floor, his eyebrows knit in concentration, "I don't understand." He mumbled, his voice sounding helpless.

Gaz grit her teeth together, he truly looked like a stray dog.

 _I would have preferred the murder over this upcoming heart-to-heart,_ she thought bitterly as she scanned her mind for the correct words to say.

Finally, she just settled on something simple, "Yeah, I don't either."

After a few moments of silence she spoke up again, "Can I give you the stitches, now?" She questioned, eyeing the blood which was dripping down from his collarbone.

He didn't give a verbal answer, instead, he looked back up at her and uncrossed his arms from his chest before putting his arms to his side and staring straight ahead.

She took this as the go ahead.

Moving closer to him, Gaz made the same contact with him as before. Her cold fingers pressed against his skin. This time, he didn't jump away. She took this as a good sign.

"Might sting," She warned shortly, the needle already cutting through the wound and going out through the other side of the skin only to hit more flesh again.

Despite how painful it looked, the standard needle and thread were doing a pretty good job.

James didn't even flinch once during the procedure.

Gaz wondered if it was because it actually didn't hurt or if the pain paled in comparison to the other things he's endured.

For her, she knew it would have been the latter.

She finished her last stitch with precision before dabbing the blood with a cotton pad.

Her fingers left his skin momentarily, only to return by applying a thin layer of antibiotic to the wound and to the surrounding burn mark.

Gaz examined her work to make sure everything was in order before looking at the rest of James's torso.

There were several other open gashes that ran along his ribcage and abdomen, not to mention the vast collection of scars that littered his body.

But, she couldn't do anything about the scars, she could only try to fix the wounds that had been inflicted in the past week.

Repositioning her hand slightly, Gaz threaded another piece of thread through the thin needle.

With one swift motion, the needle had penetrated the skin and was working through the wound, sewing it back together.

She worked rather quickly since James showed no reaction to the sting of the needle.

Halfway through her stitching of one of the larger wounds, James spoke up, much to her surprise.

"Convenient cave," He remarked, watching her as she stitched him back together.

Gaz ceased her action and looked up at him, her eyes narrowed.

She knew exactly what he was insinuating and she certainly didn't appreciate it.

"I'm caring for your wounds and you're trying to ask me if this place is a trap?" She asked him sharply, her expression going from unreadable to angry.

She knew he had a reason to not trust her, a pretty good reason at that, but she also had a reason to be pissed at him for even _mentioning_ that she may be working against him.

 _I risked my life for him,_ she thought to herself with an internal eye roll.

 _As if you don't do that every day,_ a second voice reminded her in a slightly scolding tone.

James looked taken aback by this answer, clearly not expecting her to have such a strong stance against his accusation.

"And it wasn't convenient. We ran about two miles," She reminded him bitterly, returning to the stitching she was doing.

James didn't fail to notice that her new method of stitching was much more aggressive.

 _She was nice earlier,_ he thought as he watched her jab the needle into his skin.

 _She said I saved her, she even seemed slightly grateful,_ he continued, his eyes narrowed as he observed her and her movements.

She had pulled the last string hard, pulling the knot tight before finishing the stitch and moving onto the next wound.

 _Her mood had changed in a matter of seconds, that couldn't be normal,_ James thought, the curiosity growing for the woman who was still furiously sewing his skin back together.

 _Well, that's usually what happens when you accuse someone who's helping you of trying to kill you,_ a different voice sounded in James's head.

His attention was suddenly jerked away from the violent stitches being stabbed into his abdomen and being pulled deeper into his mind.

It was definitely not James's own voice, he knew that. But, it wasn't a voice he had heard before.

It was warmer than any voice he had heard before. The voice had a tone one would use when speaking to someone they cared about. In recent memory, or really any memory, James had not recalled a person who had used that tone with him.

Possibly the woman who was performing minor surgery on him, but she had never talked that warmly to him before.

That familiar voice, the voice that greeted him kindly with each syllable.

He'd heard it somewhere, he swore he'd heard it-

"Are these all your cuts?" Gaz's rough voice interrupted his train of thought and he was suddenly yanked back into the reality of the cave.

He looked down at her, she was eyeing him with her usual strong expression and intense eyes.  
"I think so," He spoke uncertainly, at this point he couldn't remember all where he had gotten cut.  
"There aren't anything on your back or-?" She asked, trailing off her sentence in case he remembered a part where he had been lashed.

"Didn't you get hit?" He asked, remembering her angry remark from earlier about being shot.

He could have sworn he heard a scoff come from her before she said, "They barely got me, nothing a bandage won't cover." She brushed it off quickly before moving away from him and shoving the two kits back into the black backpack she had been carrying with her.

She dug deeper into the bag, her hand grasping at the fabric of one of the shirts she had found.

Silently, she pulled the shirt from the bag and tossed it directly at him without even turning around.

He caught it immediately, his right hand shooting into the air and grabbing ahold of the shirt.

He only looked at it for a couple of seconds before starting to pull it over his head.

"Don't undo your stitches," Gaz warned, still not looking at him as looked down to examine the torn skin on her hip.

After her warning, James slowly put the shirt on.

Gaz didn't pay much attention to him after that, but he watched her with mild interest.

She had sighed lightly when she noticed the damage to the material of her suit around her hip.

He watched as she looked at her wound and tried to determine the damage.

Suddenly, she was standing and taking her weapons out of her belt before removing the belt itself. Then, she was ridding herself of the thigh and rib holster. She threw all three holders to the ground in a careless heap.

Her hand went to the zipper of her catsuit, it was zipped all the way up to her neck before she began pulling it down.  
James looked away quickly as she continued to pull the zipper down.

He had seen the skin that wasn't covered by her black bra before he had looked away.

He didn't care much to notice her evident cleavage, instead, he had taken notice to the pink and white scars that had littered the small area of her body.

 _I have one that looks kind of like that,_ He observed his head still turned away from her but the image of the brand on her collarbone.

Of course, hers remained in one piece while his own brand had been distorted and burnt.

If he could remember clearly, the last time he saw his own brand it looked like it had been melting.

Meanwhile, Gaz had taken off her catsuit and stood in her undergarments, paying absolutely no mind to the male assassin that sat mere feet away from her.

She was leaning down, grabbing the shirt she had packed for herself and slipping it over her torso before sitting back down on the floor of the cave.

The ground was cold against her bare skin but she wasn't going to be able to get fully dressed until she covered her wound with a bandage.

Briefly, she looked up to where James was sitting. He was turned away from her, the back of his head showing.

She cringed a bit at his blood caked hair, she only hoped it wasn't blood caked because he had a significant head wound.

 _I'll have to check that later,_ She told herself as she touched the torn skin on her hip.

She grabbed another needle, still as thin as the last one before dousing it in rubbing alcohol to sanitize it as much as possible.

Stringing the thread through the needle head, she set to work on stitching together her own skin.

At this point, James had turned back around and was watching the mysterious woman sew the skin on her hip.  
She was moving her fingers at a fast pace and he saw how her teeth were gritted together while she tried to get it done quickly.

About a few seconds later, she was finished and pressing a piece of cotton to the stitched wound to gather the blood.

Gaz looked up to him suddenly, their eyes meeting only momentarily before she looked back to what she was doing.  
She gathered up all of the medical supplies and put them away in their designated kits, hoping she wouldn't have to use them again.

After that, Gaz grabbed her athletic pants and stood, slipping into them easily.

James continued to watch her, monitoring her quick movements as she picked up her suit and began to sew the torn fabric back together.

This went on for a while, the pair didn't speak to each other. Gaz carried on with what she needed to do while James watched her with interest.

She knew he was watching her but she didn't really care, there wasn't anything else to do in the cave except watch her so she didn't blame him.

However, she was the first one speak.

"You can sleep. I'll be up anyways working on this suit, I'll keep guard." She told him, not bothering to look up at him.  
It was clear who she was addressing since he was the only other person in the space.

He didn't respond, he just narrowed his gaze in confusion like he always did.

"Do you sleep?" She asked, almost as an afterthought as she carefully worked on her suit.

"What's your name?" James asked suddenly, his voice the same level of raspiness that it had been all day.

"I don't see how that affects you being able to sleep or not," Gaz shot back, her defensive instincts appearing and beginning to build a brick wall tightly around her.

Still, she didn't look at him and waited for him to respond to her biting comment.

"You call me 'James'." He told her, thinking that this was a good enough reason to ask for her name.

Internally, Gaz furrowed her brow in confusion, but on the outside, she resumed her expressionless persona.

"Isn't that your name?" She questioned, a slight twinge of curiosity in her voice as she momentarily ceased her sewing.

He had noticed this, but she returned to her sewing quickly and she looked like she was back to normal.

James didn't exactly know how to answer this question, "I-I don't know. You call me it. Did you just make it up?" He questioned her.

Gaz was a bit taken aback by his lack of knowledge of his past life. They really did some damage, not that that was a huge surprise. But, making him forget _everything_? Even his own name?

 _No hiding it now,_ She sighed internally.

"No, I didn't." She admitted, forcing herself not to look at him in hopes that he wouldn't ask any uncomfortable questions.

She could sense his curiosity, his need for answers.

She could also sense that he was going to ask her something soon, so instead of letting him, she spoke first.

"Gaz," She said curtly, her voice low.

"Gaz?" He asked, repeating the word in an inquisitive tone.

"That's my… name." She said, struggling with the word "name".

Technically, it wasn't her name, it was her code name. She had a feeling he had caught on to that as he stared at her with a questioning gaze.

But, if he did have questions regarding her name, he didn't ask them.

He simply nodded, satisfied with the information she had given him.

It wasn't long after that he had turned his head away from her and closed his eyes.

Gaz finally looked up at him, her eyes resting on him for a few minutes as she scanned him with intrigue.

Her fingers ceased their sewing movement as she continued to stare him and her face finally showed some emotion.

She looked sad, her lips turned into a small frown and her eyes full of raw sympathy.

Quickly, she looked back down at the fabric in her hand and began her sewing once more.

Unknown to Gaz, a brick in her wall was slowly being pulled outwards by the man with the metal arm.


	7. Chapter 7

**This update is a bit shorter, sorry about that. I have most of this story written so it just turned out this piece ended sooner than the other ones. The next update will be much longer and will even include a new character! You can expect that one tomorrow, or if I can't wait, tonight! :)**

The sun had barely risen when James awoke from his mere 2 hour sleep.

Gaz had completed her sewing by that point and was sitting in a silent vigil against the cave wall, her gun in her hand.

James opened his eyes to see her sitting there, alert and pointing her gun towards the entrance of the cave.

Beside her sat the backpack, her free hand was holding it tightly next to her.

"You're awake," She said, breaking the silence.

He hadn't even known she had noticed him being awake. He didn't even know how she noticed.

He didn't respond, she knew the answer already. Besides, she had said it more as a statement than a question.

"Are you ready to move? We can't stay here another day. It's too close to the base. There's a town a couple miles east. We could probably get there before noon." Gaz spoke quickly, spilling out the plan she had been thinking of for the couple of hours that James was asleep.

James sat up straighter, "Yeah, I'm ready." He said simply, watching as Gaz stood, slightly crouched due to the height of the cave.

Since she was standing, James stood too.

"Oh," Gaz said suddenly, tossing him the gun she was holding.

James caught it easily but eyed her with a questioning gaze.

She knew what he was thinking so she merely lifted up the black shirt, revealing the rib holster that contained a gun.

Of course, he noticed the gun. But, he also noticed the scars.

Quickly, her shirt was back down and she had the backpack slung over her shoulders.

James moved to conceal the gun as she had, lifting his shirt to put it in his waistband.

But, she interrupted him, "Keep it out." She said simply, pushing past him without another word and exiting the cave.

"Where did you put your knives?" James asked curiously.

Gaz didn't look at him as she answered, "They're in my bag." She replied shortly.

After that, there wasn't much discussion.

The temperature outside of the cave was brisk. There was no wind, so it wasn't a biting cold.

But, it wasn't warm either.

Gaz thought of the short sleeve shirts they wore and James's lack of shoes.

"Once we reach the town, we'll get you shoes." She promised, speaking aloud without meaning to.

James looked down to his barefeet like he was just remembering that he wore no shoes.

The cave was surrounded by rocks which they navigated with caution.

Gaz felt she was on high alert for possible injuries as James stepped on each rock.

With each movement, she was afraid he would get a rock stuck in his foot, or he would suddenly plummet to the ground below them.

Once they reached flat terrain, she was finally feeling less nervous about injuries.

But, as they walked through the grass and passed tall trees she was reminded of the insects in the forest.

Everywhere she looked she found a new threat.

They both walked, Gaz leading the way and James followed silently.

Gaz felt the nervousness in the pit of her stomach, she fiddled with the hem of her shirt as she walked to try to release the energy bundled up inside of her.

She scanned the area often, her eyes wide and alert.

She jumped at every sound she heard or any movement that she felt, which meant she jumped quite a bit since she was in a forest that was flooded with wildlife.

James didn't fail to notice her jumpy behavior or the way she looked around every so often to take in their surroundings.

She would turn and look at him frequently too. Her eyes always drifted to his barefeet before she turned around and continued on closely observing everything else.

"Are you hungry?" She asked suddenly, slinging the backpack off of her shoulders and opening it as she walked.

James didn't say anything at first, confused by her simple question.

"I brought protein bars. I have water too." She told him, grabbing two bars and two bottles of water from her back and tossing one of each behind her in his direction.

He caught them both with ease, eyeing them cautiously.

Gaz understood his concern, she opened hers first and took a bite out of it to prove that the food wasn't poisoned.

She uncapped her water and drank from it as well, hearing the familiar rustle of the packaging opening behind her.

"Where are we?" James asked as he took a bite of the protein bar which was apparently a blueberry flavor.

Gaz took another sip of water before closing it and putting the bottle in the side pocket of the backpack, "Black forest, Germany." She said simply as she performed the actions.

"Germany?" James asked, sounding confused.

"Yes. Don't worry, The closest thing to the Nazi's is Hydra. But, that isn't very comforting, forget that." She said, attempting to soothe his concern of being in Germany but not doing a very good job.

"It's safe?" He asked, ignoring her failure to console him.

She shrugged slightly, taking another bite of her protein bar, "The town we're going to is. I know a guy who can get us out of here." She spoke easily.

But, then she corrected herself, "Or, just you out of here, or just me. It's up to you really. I did my part getting you out, it's your choice if you want me here any longer." She shrugged again, letting him know that he was free to go on his own at any time.

Her tone held no emotion as she said the words, even though the words themselves held a strong meaning.

At least to James they held a strong meaning.

 _So, she isn't going to just dump me in the next town,_ he thought, _that's comforting._

His voice also lacked emotion, that was something both assassins had in common, "I want you here."

Gaz ignored the words, but internally she was a bit shocked at them, "Town's fifteen minutes that way. I know a guy who can get us passports that will get us the hell out of here."

She told him, her tone still holding the same fast pace as it had been the whole walk.

"You know a guy?" James asked, his head turning slightly to the right as he heard a squirrel rustle in the leaves.

"Yes," Gaz answered vaguely, not elaborating.

"We'll be able to go anywhere- you'll be able to go anywhere-" James was afraid she was going to go on her monologue again so he interrupted her.

"We'll just go together." He said finally with a light sigh.


	8. Chapter 8

**This chapter introduces a new character and I'm pretty sure it's the longest one I've posted! Enjoy!**

Gaz's approximated fifteen minutes turned out to be right. Because just fifteen minutes after that short conversation, the pair of them had entered into a small shopping village.

"Shoes," She reminded him as they approached a vendor.

"Can you even speak-" James began, scanning the area and the people with suspicion even though they were all smiling at them.

Gaz interrupted him by speaking fluent German with the man who had owned the stand.

Just five minutes later they had been navigated to where they could buy shoes and another five minutes after that, they had found the place and purchased said shoes.

James looked to Gaz, something resembling being impressed upon his expression.

She looked at him, her lips in a straight line and her eyes unreadable, like always.

"Need anything else?" She asked, looking up at him and meeting his intense gaze with her own.

"Get a jacket or something," He told her, looking down to her arms.

She looked down to them as well, spotting the goosebumps that covered her skin.

She frowned a bit when she saw them, "Didn't even notice," she muttered, pushing past him and through the crowd.

Now walking, with shoes, she was much less worried about possible injuries.

"Anselm keeps his business in that alleyway." She informed him, pointing to the small space between two short buildings which she was already approaching.

"Looks… Dangerous." James observed as they neared the dark alleyway.

"I've been here hundreds of times." She said, thinking that that would be enough to erase his worries.

He didn't respond, but as they both slipped into the alleyway it was easy to tell that he was tense about the situation.

"Calm down," She muttered to him as she stopped in front of the door, feeling his negative energy behind her.

She knocked twice and stepped aside, waiting to see the familiar eyes that would greet her when the door was opened.

They only had to wait a few seconds before the door was opened and they were greeted by a pair of green eyes.

"G?" A rough, German accented voice asked, opening the door wider immediately. The man, Anselm, stood before them. He had short blonde hair and piercing green eyes. He had a small stature but a healthy build.

"Ans, I brought someone with me," Gaz informed Anselm, gesturing towards James who was staring at Anselm with a threatening expression.

Gaz could tell by the intimidated way Ans looked back at James that he was a bit worried about letting the man into the room.

And, James seemed worried about going into the room.

Gaz turned to James first, "He won't hurt you." She whispered to him, their bodies so close together in the alleyway it would have been easy to give his hand a reassuring squeeze or maybe pat his back. But, that wasn't her style.

Next, Gaz turned to Anselm, "He's one of the good ones, promise." She assured him, her voice remaining monotone even though she tried to convey some sincerity.

Anselm merely stepped aside, taking her word as gospel and allowing the pair to enter the space.

He locked the door but first giving the alleyway a scan before doing so.

James and Gaz both stood behind him, standing close together but silent.

"Boyfriend?" Ans asked in his heavily accented voice.

Gaz didn't show her reaction, instead, she said, "Fellow escapee."

Anselm seemed surprised by this admittance. His eyes widened and his brow furrowed.

"Is this him, then? The one you told me about?" Ans asked, stepping closer to Gaz and trying to say the words quietly.

But, James had heard.

 _Told him about?_ James wondered, keeping his expression straight as his mind raced, _What was there to say about me?_

"Yes," She said through gritted teeth.

Anselm took this as a sign that he better not speak any further on the subject.

Instead, he gestured for them to follow him.

James and Gaz followed easily, being led into a small kitchen which held a circular table.

Ans motioned for them to sit down, which they did.

Gaz did so easily, throwing her backpack onto the floor and relaxing a bit.

It took a stern look from Gaz for James to finally sit down.

Anselm however, was at the stove and preparing something.

James took this as an opportunity and he turned to the woman beside him, "How do you know this guy?" He asked, his lips close to her ear as he tried to keep the man from hearing.

Gaz didn't even react to the close contact, instead, she turned her head sharply towards him, their noses millimeters apart.

Neither moved nor cared.

"He's the only person I've been able to trust. Either stay and listen to what he has to say, or you can be on your way." She told him sharply before turning her head straight.

James furrowed his brow at her words.

 _What happened to "together"?_

He felt the sudden urge to roll his eyes, but Anselm had turned back to them and was placing mugs in front of them.

"Have you had lunch?" He asked, sounding kinder than earlier.

Gaz looked up at Ans, something close to a smile taking over her lips.

James looked a bit confused as the emotion tried to show itself in her expression.

"No; we haven't." She spoke almost warmly. It was definitely a more civil tone than the one she had used with him.

"Well, I'll make something. Feel free to use the shower or whatever you need." Anselm told them, turning his back to them again as he opened the fridge.

James stared at him with curiosity and suspicion. He couldn't help but wonder why the man was so eager to help them or why he had asked minimal questions upon their arrival.

 _I'll have to ask Gaz,_ James noted, _she'll have an answer._

His worries were interrupted, "You need to wash that blood from your hair. I need to check your stitches too, we did a lot of climbing." Gaz told him suddenly, her tone not as sharp as before but definitely not as warm as it had been with Anselm.

James was a bit disappointed in the lack of warmth, the voice in his head was warm, why wasn't hers?

He didn't respond to her, he knew that if she wanted him to do something she would most likely drag him to go do it.

Which she did, after slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she grabbed his human arm and led him in the direction of the bathroom.

It didn't take long for them to be in the small bathroom, the apartment was compact after all.

"I know you don't trust anyone, I don't either, but you can trust Ans. He's one of the only reasons I was able to keep myself alive in that hellhole." Gaz spoke almost immediately once they entered the small room.

Her voice wasn't as angry as before, which James took notice to. It was softer than earlier and more of a pleading tone than a demanding one.

James only looked at her, his eyes searching hers.

"Trust me," She told him, just above a whisper as she resumed eye contact.

James swallowed, looking away from her.

Gaz would have smiled at the victory if her face would have complied, but instead, she turned around and placed her backpack in the sink before opening it.

She dug through the contents while she said, "Take off your shirt."

James complied easily, lifting the shirt over his head before simply holding it in his hand.

The two trained hydra agents found nothing wrong with the demand and carried on as they were.

Gaz turned around, sewing kit at the ready as she examined his stitches.

Her eyes widened as she spotted the stitch on his left side which had opened slightly.

"You really need bed rest." She muttered, crouching slightly to tend to the wound.

She threaded the needle easily, just as she had done last night, before performing the same procedure.

Except this time, the back of her hand had hit James's metal arm. He jumped back almost immediately, causing Gaz to accidentally stab herself with the needle.

She cursed at the sting and simply pulled it out of her skin with one yanking motion.

"Could you even feel that?" She asked, her tone a bit harsh as she had to disinfect the needle again before finishing up the stitch in his side.

James didn't respond to the question, he just stood tense against the wall as she knotted the thread to finish the seam.

Gaz didn't expect a response, she turned around without a word and put the sewing supplies back in the kit. But, she kept the first aid kit out and James wondered if she had gotten hurt.

But, instead of taking out any medical supplies, she took out a knife which had been hidden inside of the box.

She brought the knife close to her face and grabbed ahold of her hair, hacking a large portion off in one swift movement.

James jumped towards her, afraid that she would cut herself.

Gaz paid no attention and continued to perform the action to the rest of her hair until it lay haggardly about halfway down her neck instead of to her shoulder blades as it had before she took the knife to it.

She crouched down, opening the cabinet under the sink and coming up with a box.

James narrowed his eyes at the item, Gaz could see him through the mirror since he stood directly behind her.  
"Hair dye," She muttered, opening the box with the knife before dropping it into the sink with a clang.

"You can wash your hair in the sink while I put this in my hair," She told him, stepping aside so that they could switch places.

He moved as she wanted him to and he tentatively grabbed a hold of the knife and removed it from inside the sink before placing it carefully on the lid of the toilet.

He then grabbed the backpack and set it down on the lid as well with equal care.

Gaz was already applying a dark liquid to her hair as James looked to her as to be directed what to do.

She looked right back at him, plastic gloves on her hands as she poured the liquid onto the roots of her hair and rubbing it in.

"Is that… Dangerous?" He asked, turning around instead of just looking at her through the mirror.

She let out a breath that was the closest thing to a laugh he had ever heard from her.

However, her lips remained straight so it looked more like a choke.

"Not dangerous, pretty common actually." She remarked, spreading the dye to her ends and the middle of her hair until the blonde strands were completely coated with the dark solution.

James still stared at the dye with doubt and concern but Gaz was far from bothered by it so he tried to relax.

"So, this guy-" He began, earning an instantaneous sharp look from Gaz as she poured the rest of the concentration onto her hair and rubbed it in with quick motions.

"Who I trust," He added, once he saw the angry flash in her eyes.

Once again, she made the breath. He took it as a laugh which made him feel warm inside.

 _She didn't need to use a warm voice, her laugh works just fine._

"Why did he just let us in?" James questioned, watching as Gaz disposed of the plastic tube that had the dye in it. But, she kept the gloves on.

Gaz looked at herself in the mirror briefly, examining the hair dye before turning back to James, "We've known each other for a long time. I've hidden out here more than I should have." She told him vaguely as he realized he was still holding his shirt.

He placed it near the other things before turning back to Gaz, "He can help?" He asked her, the same hesitant expression on his face that had resided there for a while.

Gaz simply nodded with confidence before changing the subject, "You should really wash your hair. There's blood in it." She pointed out, gesturing to his brown hair which was caked in his own dried blood.

He looked in the mirror, seeing the blood issue which she spoke of.

"You don't have a head wound, right?" She asked him for clarification.

He shook his head, watching her as she stood behind him.

He didn't make any movements to do what she had told him.

"Have you ever washed your hair in a sink before?" She asked, the muscles in her cheeks twitching slightly as if she was about to smile.

He shook his head again, his eyes still glued to her with the same interest he always had when looking at her.

"I'll help," She muttered finally, peeling off her plastic gloves and laying them on the counter for when she would wash the dye out of her own hair.

James watched as she walked towards the shower, grabbing something from the ledge and bringing it back to where he stood.

"Just lean back and close your eyes. Well, you don't have to close your eyes if you don't want to." She instructed before quickly correcting herself just in case he wouldn't want to let his guard down.

But, he did exactly as she told him to.

"I'm going to turn on the water." Gaz warned, turning the faucet and watching as the water poured down onto his hair and started to take away some of the blood.  
James showed no reaction as the slightly cold water hit his head.

Gaz allowed the water to wash away some of the blood before she put her hands in his hair and began to rub the blood out of his hair.

James jumped slightly at the sudden contact but was back to normal quickly.

"Sorry," She apologized quietly, taking her hands from his hair to get some shampoo before she massaged the liquid into his scalp.

James relaxed at the sensation, not knowing exactly why. He felt the warmth once more, despite the cold of the water.

 _Another reason she doesn't need the warm voice,_ He reasoned, _Her touch is warm, like her laugh._

Gaz finished washing his hair a couple of minutes later and grabbed a towel for him.

He had stood by the time she turned around.

His wet hair was dripping onto his shoulders and chest.

She passed him the towel, her cheeks twitching again.

 _Maybe that's her version of a smile?_

James dried his hair, that part he knew how to do.

Gaz looked in the mirror, looking at her dye coated hair.

"How long has it been since I put this in?" She asked, meaning to think it rather than say it.

James responded anyways, "About fifteen minutes," He responded absentmindedly, towel drying his hair.

She nodded as a symbol of thanks before looking to his shoulder length brown hair.

"Do you want a tie?" She questioned.

Her response was a confused look which meant she needed to expand upon what she was saying, " A hair tie. It'll make it so the hair will stay out of your face. She explained easily, toying with the tie that was already on her small wrist.

James's eyes went to it immediately, "Oh, I know what that is." He said suddenly.

She took the tie off of her wrist and handed it to him wordlessly before turning back to the sink.

James collected all of his wet hair and tied it easily into a haphazard bun before looking back to Gaz who was putting the plastic gloves back on.

"It says to wait thirty minutes for the best color payoff, but I have other things to do." She muttered, turning on the faucet before shoving her head under the faucet.

James watched as the brown dye washed away from her hair and fell into the sink, swirling around the drain until it disappeared.

James looked to Gaz's hair which she was still washing. Looking at her, he quickly noticed how her neck was slightly stained by the dye.

She was quick with washing her own hair and before he knew it she was standing up straight again and her hair was wet and brushing her shoulders.

Besides the fact that it was no longer long and was now a slightly lengthier version of a bob, it was a light brown color.

She ran her hand through the new hair, not looking like she cared about it.

Gaz turned to face James, meeting his eyes briefly before getting a towel for herself and wrapping it around her head easily.

"Anselm should have lunch ready." She told him, exiting the bathroom and expecting him to follow.

He did so, the towel still around his bare shoulders as he followed her into the kitchen which they had been in earlier.

She sat back down in the chair she was sitting in previously, so he sat down next to her in the same chair he had been in.

Anselm turned when he heard them entering the room, his eyes falling on the stitched chest of James.

"Rough escape?" He asked calmly, turning back to the stove which he was using to make them lunch.

Gaz removed her towel from around her head and began to press it against her hair to collect the moisture.

"Wasn't from the escape." James spoke gruffly, leaning back against his chair and examining the small kitchen.  
All of the appliances looked old and many of them looked like they had been repaired several times.

Anselm merely nodded to James's words, not asking questions. Instead, he scooped food from the pot on the stove into two bowls before turning around to give it to them.

He paused momentarily when he saw the new hair that Gaz sported.

"I see you found the hair dye." He remarked dryly, placing the two bowls of stew in front of them.

Gaz shot him a look before grabbing the spoon that was already in the bowl and shoveling the stew into her mouth.

She hadn't realized exactly how hungry she was until she smelled the beef stew when she arrived in the kitchen. Clearly, the protein bar earlier hadn't been enough to tide her over.

James felt the same way as he began to eat the food, not even caring if it was poisoned anymore.

Besides, Gaz trusted the guy, therefore James trusted him.

After a few minutes of letting them eat uninterrupted, Anselm spoke, "Where is it you two need to go?" He asked bluntly.

Gaz looked to him, "Out of Germany. Away from Hydra, they'll be looking for us." She informed him.

Anselm nodded knowingly, "That explains the new look," He remarked.

Gaz ignored him, and James wasn't paying much attention so Anselm's clever remark went unnoticed.

"So, out of Germany? I can get you on a train to Reims tomorrow morning. Nice train, only about a four hour travel." He told them easily, already knowing the train route and the time of departure.

"I say train because-" Anselm looked to James, "He isn't getting through airport security anytime soon."

At this, Gaz glared angrily at the German before looking to James.

Her gaze held something different, something he'd never seen before.

 _Is she sorry?_ James asked himself, _why is she sorry? She didn't do anything._

After Gaz was done scolding Anselm she thought about his offer for a couple of seconds.

Reims, France. She had been near there for a mission once, but that was it.

"We'll have to be on the move, that's a good start at it." She said finally.

Anselm looked at her, his brow furrowed in concern and intrigue, "Do you even have a plan? A plan of what to do once you get somewhere?" He questioned.

Gaz shrugged, spooning some more stew into her mouth before saying, "The firmest plan I have right now is to try and stay alive."

Anselm gave Gaz a stern look, "That's a cop-out sentence. You only said that to sound cool so that I'd leave you alone." He told her sharply.

A hint of a smile appeared on Gaz's lips and James stared at her with interest, frowning when the smile disappeared a couple of seconds later.

"You don't have to be on the move so much. You're both capable of protecting yourselves. Maybe plant yourself in an apartment in Reims. You already look different and you just need to hide the… Arm." Ans said, looking to James with a slightly fearful expression.

James didn't look back at Anselm, he only looked at Gaz for her to speak again.

"They already know we're gone. They'll probably raid the villages soon. They'll raid everywhere they can. I don't want to harm a whole city just by staying in some apartment." She said firmly, her bowl now empty as she sat back in her chair.

"Yet, you have no problem staying with me." Ans rolled his eyes dramatically before looking back to Gaz with a smile who was staring at him intensely.

"We're not staying here." She told him sternly.

Ans scoffed, "Not staying here? You can't exactly leave for the train, it leaves tomorrow morning and it's only 1pm." He shot back at her.

"We'll walk to the station once you give us the plan. We can't stay here." Gaz argued.

Anselm gave her a firm expression, "It's a ten-minute walk to the station. I have a spare bedroom here, and several guns that will protect us." Anselm announced finally, he stood from the table and left the room so that Gaz could not argue any further.

She let out a sigh, he was so infuriating.

James sat still, thinking about what Anselm said.

 _He has a spare room?_ James asked, looking around the small apartment.

 _How?_

Gaz turned to James, "He's going to make us stay here." She informed him, a frown etched into her lips.

James nodded in agreement, not finding it to be an issue.

Anselm reappeared into the kitchen, carrying a large bin.

He placed the bin onto the table with a bang, which made James flinch slightly.

Gaz noticed this and turned to him, giving him a soft expression which he didn't see since he was focused on Anselm.

Anselm, who was now digging through the bin, paid no attention to this exchange.

Suddenly, he began grabbing stacks of different coins from the black bin, which upon closer examination appeared to be currency from different countries.

Gaz eyed the currency with suspicion before looking to her friend, who did not notice her expression and continued to pull more money out of the bin.

The next thing he pulled from the bin was not more currency, but a large rifle.

This was when Gaz decided she needed to speak up, "Where the hell did you get all of this from?" She questioned, with as much exclamation as she could muster.

Anselm did not answer, nor did he look up from the bin, which he continued to pull out money and weapons from.

Gaz continued to stare at her friend, a bit of shock making its way to her expression.

James merely looked at him, not wanting to ask any questions just in case the answer was something he wouldn't want to hear.

Gaz leaned forward, her elbows now on the table as she stared intently at the now mysterious man.  
"This isn't normal, you know this isn't normal, right?" She asked him, willing him to look at her.

Anselm's gaze remained in the now empty bin, he knew that if he looked at her he would most likely spill all of his information.

He also knew that if he spoke, she would make him tell her everything.

Surprisingly, James was the one to speak, "He didn't ask us any questions." He reminded Gaz.

Gaz turned to him quickly, her now light brown hair swimming around her as she did so.

"James, he has military assault rifles and thousands in foreign currency. Shouldn't we be a bit worried?" Gaz asked, her tone actually showing some emotion.

James was impressed, but he wasn't going to let her win this one.

"I have a metal arm and the first thing you did when you got here was change your appearance. Shouldn't he be worried?" James shot back easily, speaking the most words to her he ever had.

"Your metal arm isn't that weird," Gaz muttered, knowing that he had won.

James let out a breath that resembled a chuckle as Gaz turned back to Anselm who was staring at them with an amused expression.  
"Now that that's settled. I have German and French currency for the two of you." Anselm announced, sliding over four large stacks, two of which were German currency and two of which were French currency.

Gaz took one of each, leaving the other two for James to take.

James didn't make a move for the money so Gaz gave him a questioning stare.  
"You can handle the money, I trust you." He told her curtly, watching as she shrugged and picked up the two other stacks before placing them beside hers on the floor.

"And since you two will be on the run from a murder organization, you can have your choices of weapons." Ans added, gesturing vaguely to the numerous assault rifles that lay on the table.  
"I don't think those will fit in the backpack," Gaz remarked dryly, still looking at Anselm with uncertainty.

Anselm rolled his eyes, "I'll get you a suitcase to go along with it. Oh, and a sleeved shirt and some gloves for you." He said, pointing to James's metal arm.

"Do you need clothes?" Anselm asked, now looking to Gaz.  
"Do you have women's clothes lying around?" She shot back to him.

"I do, matter of fact. Some of them being yours. I think there's a dress around her somewhere." Anselm said, looking around the room.

James suddenly lets out a chuckle, the image of the crass woman beside him in a dress bringing him great humor.  
"I wear dresses." She told him sternly, not even looking at him.

"I distinctly remember you telling me once that you were 'unable to kick ass in a dress'. Does that ring any bells to you?" Anselm questioned in his thickly accented voice.

Once again, James let out a chuckle as Gaz shot him a glare.

"That is true, try high-kicking in a dress and then come back to me." She told them both, her voice stern but her body language casual.

Everyone's body language was casual, even James was relaxed as he listened to the conversation between Gaz and Anselm.

"Are you able to move more comfortably in your leather atrocity?" Ans questioned with a smirk.

Gaz practically growled at him as she said, "That wasn't my design,"

"Makes you look like a stripper, a very intimidating stripper." Anselm continued, laughing as he said the words.

Gaz was unable to contain the smirk that appeared on her lips from the joke.

James even managed a minuscule smile.

Suddenly, he couldn't help but feel safe. He couldn't help but feel at home with the strange German man who cracked crude jokes and the emotionally stunted assassin who sat beside him.


	9. Chapter 9

7 hours later James and Gaz sat in the same position, except this time they were eating dinner that was so kindly prepared for them by Anselm.

"So, tonight you two will pack the suitcases. I already promised money, more medical supplies, weapons, and some clothes. Will you need anything else?" Anselm asked, listing off the items he was providing easily.

Gaz nodded along to what he was saying before chewing some of the chicken Anselm had cooked for them.

"That's it. We'll pack and then I'll cut James's hair." She remarked easily, making James turn to her.

She paid no attention to him and didn't bother arguing since she was determined to cut his hair anyways.

"Are you going to dye it too?" Ans teased, a beer in his hand.

James glared back at the man.

"I don't think a haircut will do much to mask his identity," Gaz muttered, continuing to eat her meal.  
"Then why do you need to cut my hair?" James asked her, his brows furrowed.

She turned to him, the slightest trace of a smile on her lips, "It's too long, you look like a pedophile."

Anselm burst into laughter at this, his joyful laugh filling the room and making Gaz let out a breathy chuckle.  
"Wow, thanks," James remarked, looking at the woman with a slight smirk.

He hadn't smiled, or almost smiled, in a long time.  
It felt good.

"But, a very kind pedophile." She nodded, suddenly realizing that what she said was insulting.

"Gaz, those don't exist." Anselm cackled.

James merely shook his head with a sigh.

Gaz began to open her mouth to say something else but James interrupted her, "Just stop with the pedophile analogy. I'll let you cut my hair."

Anselm found this only added to the hilarity and by the time he had finished laughing, there were tear tracks on his cheeks.

"God, you two are hilarious. How are you so emotionless yet so funny?" He asked, shaking his head at the pair.  
"I smiled at least once." Gaz defended, finishing her meal quickly.

"Yes, yes, suddenly you are the master of emotions," Anselm said, his hands raised defensively.

Gaz rolled her eyes for the first time and Anselm exclaimed at the action.

"There! That was some emotion! I'm chipping away at that brick wall, G, I sure am!" He said victoriously, sending Gaz a white toothed smile when she looked up to glare at him.

"I'm gonna go pack. You wanna help?" She announced, addressing her question to James.

James looked up at her as she stood, examining her expression which had turned back to unreadable.

"Uh, sure." He said weakly, standing and then having to look down at her since he was much taller.

"Just dig through my closet for whatever clothes you need. I'll wash up here." Ans told them, watching as they exited the kitchen.  
Gaz knew the way to Anselm's bedroom and she led James there easily.

They were silent as they walked, the kind familiarity she had with Anselm disappeared once the two of them were alone.  
James followed Gaz as she entered the small bedroom and immediately walked towards the closet.

She opened the closet door, wheeling out a suitcase easily and then addressing James, "Can you put it on the bed? That way we can just fold what we need and put it directly in there." She asked, explaining her plan.

James nodded wordlessly, picking up the suitcase with ease and unzipping it for her.

"You can choose your own stuff." She told him, opening the closet door wider so that he could stand beside her in front of the closet.

James did as she wanted him to and stood next to her, examining the clothes as she dug into the back.

She pulled out two black shirts, which he noticed were identical to the one she wore currently.

"Have you stayed here often?" James asked her curiously as she scanned over a pair of black jeans which James believed to belong to her since they matched the length and thinness of her legs.

"These aren't mine." She told him, referring to the jeans which she folded up anyways and placed inside of the suitcase beside the two black shirts.

"Still… Have you stayed here often?" He repeated his question as she began to look some of the shirts that belonged to Anselm.  
She shrugged, "Often enough to leave two shirts here, apparently." Was her vague response.

She held a gray long sleeved shirt in her hand and she turned to James, changing the subject, "This should fit you." She told him.

He grabbed the shirt since she was offering it to him.

Then, she turned back towards the closet and pulled out more pants and shirts that looked like they belonged to women.

James was occupied pulling the shirt over his head when he heard Gaz mutter, "Looks like Ans has been busy,"

Her tone revealed nothing about how she felt on the subject and James too afraid to ask her so he remained silent.

Gaz turned back to James, examining the way the shirt fit him and the way it covered his metal arm.

"A bit tight," she remarked, eyeing his muscles, "But it will do."

During the thirty minutes they spent in the bedroom, Gaz had given James multiple long sleeved shirts and two hoodies while she had selected a hoodie of Anselm's for herself and another pair of jeans,

"He won't mind that we took all of this stuff?" James asked as he helped Gaz fold all of the clothes neatly into the suitcase.

Gaz shook her head, "He'll just buy more. Apparently, he's loaded." She remarked, thinking back to the unreasonable amount of money her friend had revealed to her several hours previous.

James didn't respond to that. Instead, he zipped the suitcase and lifted it into his arms, waiting for Gaz to lead the way.  
"We left the other stuff in the bathroom, I'll just grab it and then we can pack in the living room." She said, leading him out of the bedroom and back down the hall where the bathroom was.

Gaz simply retrieved the backpack which held all of her things and the shirt and knife which James had placed beside the backpack.

Once she had all of the things she had brought with her, she led James back to the kitchen before taking a left, revealing a room which he had yet to see.

The living room was quaint, like the rest of the apartment. It held one couch and one old tv, along with a rug that seemed to have a couple blood stains on it.

Gaz looked down on the dried blood before sheepishly looking back up at James, "That was the last time I was here. He's too lazy to clean it, I guess." She said vaguely before gesturing for James to put the suitcase on the floor.

While James put the suitcase down and unzipped it, Gaz put down the backpack, the shirt, and the knife.

"You two finished raiding my closet?" Anselm asked, prancing into the room carrying a black duffel bag.

Gaz looked up at him, her straight-faced stare appearing on her face.

"What's in the bag?" She asked bluntly.

Anselm let out a small laugh, "Medical supplies. Ever heard of paranoia?" He asked her.

Gaz let out a light sigh, "It's ok to be paranoid when people are actually out to kill you." She reasoned easily, starting to fold the shirt that James had been wearing when they first arrived at Anselm's.

"Touché." Anselm remarked, before starting up speaking again, "That is the English word, right?" He asked for confirmation.

Gaz gave him a nod before handing the folded shirt to James so that he could put it in the suitcase.

She turned to the backpack, pulling out the two other shirts she had packed and tossing them to James, unfolded.

He folded them himself easily and placed them with the other clothes.

"What supplies do you have?" Gaz asked, starting to separate the things in her backpack into two piles.

One pile consisted of the things she would be carrying with her in the backpack, the other pile were the things that would be packed away in the suitcase.

The suitcase pile consisted of her thigh holster, a knife, most of the money, and her catsuit.

The backpack pile contained the first aid kit, her two other knives, the sewing kit, the water bottles, protein bars, and a small amount of the money.

"I thought you'd never ask," Anselm said, throwing the duffel bag onto the couch and beginning to remove medical supplies from it.

First, he took out an actual stitching kit, which Gaz happily took.

Secondly, he removed a surgical kit full of useful tools, another kit that Gaz easily took off of his hands.

Following that, Anselm took out several IV bags which Gaz was a bit skeptical of.

"When will I need this?" She questioned, holding the liquid bag in her hand.

"When one of you gets beaten to a pulp and is unconscious. Pack it in the suitcase." Anselm insisted, giving her two more.

Next, Anselm gave her a full bottle of hydrogen peroxide and some sterilizing wipes.

After that, he took out two boxes of bandages which Gaz was pleased with.

"Ah, here's the good part." Ans remarked, removing at least a dozen pill bottles from the bag.

Gaz looked at the pills suspiciously but decided against asking questions, instead she grabbed the pills and passed them to James who packed them neatly in the suitcase.

"Enough supplies?" Ans asked as Gaz started giving James the pile of things she designated for the suitcase.

"We're good on medical," she informed him, eyeing the suitcase which was packed wonderfully.

"Good job," She told James suddenly, turning to pack the backpack.

James looked at her, a bit confused, before responding, "Uh, thanks."

Anselm watched this exchange and tried not to cringe, he had never seen two people with worse social skills.

"I'll bring out the weapons," Anselm said, leaving the room promptly to retrieve the rifles from the bin that he had shown them.

"You didn't pack your rib holster." James observed.

Gaz didn't look to him as she said, "I didn't pack my knife belt either,"

"I have returned with my state of the art artillery." Ans announced, entering the room carrying the large bin in his arms.

Gaz looked to James instinctively before turning back to Anselm who had already placed the bin on the floor and was pulling guns from it.

"I don't think all of those will be necessary," Gaz spoke up, watching as Ans removed large rifles from the bin and placed them on the floor beside the bin itself.  
Anselm looked up at her, a look of slight disappointment on his usually cheerful face.

It didn't take long for Gaz to sigh and say, "Yes, fine, we'll take some. Do you have any handguns? Anything that's not military grade?"

Anselm frowned slightly at this, "Of course I don't have anything that isn't military grade. Do I look like an amateur?" He questioned her, taking out three handguns which were all identical.

"Here, I have these HK45's. 5-inch barrel, polymer grip, .45 caliber." Anselm listed off, passing both James and Gaz a gun.

James held the gun tentatively, examining the aspects of the gun and testing how it felt in his hand.

Gaz merely held the weapon, not caring much about the feel or the power.

As long as it shot bullets, she would be fine.

"Yeah, we'll take these. No rifles, though, ok?" Gaz reasoned, slipping the gun into the backpack which she was almost done packing.

"You're so boring. Why don't you want rifles? I thought you would love this stuff." Anselm criticized, watching as James removed the gun that Gaz had given him from his waistband and replacing it with the gun Anselm had just given him.

Gaz rolled her eyes, turning away from her friend as she said, "You know I prefer knives."

Anselm looked at Gaz, a slight smirk on his lips.

"Well, I do have a kit you may be interested in," Anselm remarked, his arms going back into the bin and then coming out carrying a black leather case.

Gaz turned back to him once she heard him say he had a kit and her eyes widened when she saw the leather wrappings in his hands.

"Should've led with that, Ans," Gaz said, shaking her head as she approached her friend.

He handed her the case, watching anxiously as she opened it.

"Damn," Gaz remarked, opening the kit to see that it held at least eight different knives that all varied in size and shape.

"I knew I would have something that would interest you," Anselm smiled, taking in her reaction.

Gaz shook her head as her fingers ghosted over the handles of each knife, the handles were smooth but she knew they would be perfect in her grip.

"All yours." Ans announced, sending her a small smile.  
Gaz looked up at him, seeming slightly surprised at his offer.

"I can't. They look so expensive, I have to give you something back for this." She spoke, closing the case and wrapping it up.

Anselm rolled his eyes at her suggestion, "Don't be ridiculous. Just get out of this alive and maybe call me once in awhile. Send over a snow globe from whatever country you end up in." He shrugged.

James let out a chuckle at this and Gaz turned to him, a slight smile playing on her lips.

"We'll send the most expensive snow globe we can find." Gaz decided, zipping up her newly packed backpack which included the new gun, her new knife kit and some new medical supplies, all provided by Anselm.

Beside the backpack lay her knife belt which held her two trusty knives that she had brought with her.

She was serious when she told James she wasn't packing it.

James zipped up the packed suitcase and turned to Gaz, watching as she slung the backpack over her shoulder.

"The snow globe better have diamonds on it or it won't be worth it." Anselm quipped.

Gaz gave him a look before turning to James, "I think we should keep the suitcase near where we're gonna be sleeping. Just in case."

James nodded, his hand on the handle of the suitcase, ready to pick it up at any time.

"Plan to sneak out during the middle of the night?" Anselm teased, starting to collect his assault rifles and place them carefully in the bin.

Gaz shrugged, "Maybe," She said simply.

"Blatant disregard for my hospitality." Anselm shook his head dramatically before looking back to Gaz and James.  
"The spare room is just across the hall from my room. You two can stay there. There should be blankets and pillows and all of the necessities." Anselm informed them, pointing towards the hallway which the rooms were.

Gaz nodded and gestured for James to lead the way.

James rolled the suitcase behind him, remembering the way to go in order to get to the room.

Gaz began to walk by Anselm but stopped momentarily, James hadn't noticed and had simply just kept walking.  
"Thanks, for this." She told him, her voice sounded slightly awkward from trying to convey sincerity.

But, Anselm didn't need her to sound sincere in order to know that she was sincere.

"Anytime." He told her with a small smile.

She tried to return the smile but it didn't exactly come across all the way.  
She turned, beginning to catch up with James.

Anselm's voice stopped her, "Oh, and Gaz? Take a shower."


	10. Chapter 10

**If you'd like, leave a review! :)**

Gaz sat on the comfortable material of the bed, her newly short hair still dripping water onto her shoulders due to her recent shower.

Her back was against the pillows as her legs were crossed in front of her.

She was twirling one of her knives in her hand, watching the blade cut through the air with slight fascination in her expression.

In front of the bed, James was pacing back and forth, his arms crossed over his chest as he walked the perimeter of the room over and over again.

Gaz ceased the twirling of her knife as she gave the pacing man a pointed look, "What are you doing?" She asked him.

James turned to look at her, his pacing stopped.

She didn't even know if he knew he was pacing.

"Thinking," He remarked curtly, turning on his heel and beginning to pace right where he had left off.

Gaz dropped her knife down to her side, still staring at James.

"About?" She questioned.

He looked at her once more, a confused expression on his face.

 _Why does she care?_ James wondered innocently.

"I'm just curious. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." She said with a shrug, pulling her eyes off of him and instead starting to twirl her knife again.

James stared at her hand as she rotated the knife with her slender fingers. She did it with perfect dexterity, he was even slightly impressed.

"Our escape." He told her bluntly.

Gaz ceased her knife twirling once more, looking back up at James with as soft of an expression as she could muster.

"We'll never be safe, but between the two of us we have a pretty good resistance," Gaz told him, telling him the truth but also trying to make it sound a bit better.

"That did not make me feel any better," James informed her with a straight face.

She would have broken a smile, but instead her mouth just sort of twitched before returning to its straight line.

"Well, we've stayed alive this long." She offered.  
James merely stared at her, "You're not very good at this." He remarked.

She offered a shrug, "I've never had to comfort someone before. Besides, our situation isn't the best. But, we're both trained. If they come near us, we can take them down." Gaz told him confidently.

James had stopped pacing now and was standing at the foot of the bed, staring at her.

"They'll do anything to catch us. They did anything to catch me and you work for them, you know all of their secrets." James said seriously, swallowing.

Gaz bit her lip, knowing he was right, "We'll just have to be willing to do anything to win."

James took in this suggestion, thinking it over before speaking again. His tone was lower, quieter as he spoke this time, "It's just… Gaz, they did something to me. I don't know what, but I can feel it. It's like there's some trigger inside of me and they're just waiting for the right time to pull it." He ran his hands through his hair, his muscles tensing.

Gaz's lips parted slightly as she listened to him, feeling a surprising wave of sympathy rush over her.

She stared at him, trying to express some sort of emotion on her face that would show him that she understood.

"They can't control you anymore, you're out of their hands now." She reminded him, softening her voice as much as she could.

James sighed and sat down at the end of the bed, still looking at Gaz, "They can, though. They always can. They mess me up… Every- Every time they find me I have to start all over again. I forget everything and all I can remember are these- these things that I don't even know if they're real or not." He spoke, his voice becoming frantic.

Gaz's eyes widened, this conversation had taken a turn down a serious route that she was not expecting.

 _Why is he telling me this? Why does he trust me? He shouldn't trust me. I don't trust me._

"You don't have to remember your past… lives. Just try to be… Who you are now." She attempted, struggling with the words.

 _This is complete bullshit and you know it,_ The voice inside of her head critiqued.

Which was true, she was in an uncomfortable situation and James looked like he was going to fall apart at any second. She had to say something to make him feel better, even if it was a lie.

James stared at her, his green eyes a mixture of fear and sorrow.

"They've turned me into a monster." He whispered, looking down at his hands which were in his lap.

"You're not a monster." She argued immediately.

She didn't even have the evidence to back up her argument, but she believed in it strongly.

He looked up at her, his chapped lips slightly parted, "You don't know what I've done."

Gaz sat up straight, leaning towards him absentmindedly.

" _They_ made you do it. You didn't do it out of choice." She corrected him.

He shook his head slowly, "I still did it, I took lives, I-" He began, only to be interrupted by Gaz.

"James, listen to me. We've both done things. But, those decisions were not ours. We didn't choose to be this way. Don't blame yourself." Gaz told him sternly.

He stared at her, his lips still parted as he tried to think of something to say. He wasn't convinced by her words, but he didn't want to argue. Instead, he asked a question.

"Do you blame yourself?"

Gaz's expression changed slightly, something had flashed behind her eyes. James was unsure of what it was but he was certain that he had seen something.

She took a deep breath, "Honest answer?" She asked.

James nodded instantly.

Gaz looked down at her crossed legs, "Sometimes, yeah. But, I've tried my best to do some good to balance the bad. Honestly, I don't think there's enough good around for me to erase what I've done. I'm a trained killer, it's in my job description. I didn't choose it, but here I am." She shrugged, her voice breaking slightly only to regain its original power.

James furrowed his brows at her, taking in her words.

"That was pretty good." He commented with a nod.  
She let out a breath, the breath that James always identified as a laugh.

"Heart-to-heart is over now. Time to sleep." Gaz directed, standing from the bed and pulling back the comforter.

James nodded, standing and going to the other side of the bed where he did the same as she had.

They both laid down on their sides of the bed. James was rolled to his side, the comforter only going up to his waist. While Gaz had reached over to turn off the lamp and then returned to laying on her back, her blankets pulled all the way up to her shoulders.

"Sometimes, I get nightmares. If I wake you-" James began, only to be interrupted by Gaz once again.

"I know, I do too. If you hurt me, it's not your fault." She told him, closing her eyes as she spoke.

James didn't respond, he simply stared at the blank wall in front of him and listened to the steady sound of Gaz's breathing.

It wasn't a bang or a blast that woke Gaz that night. It was the light sound of a footstep.

But, she had the same reaction to the footstep as she would have if a bomb had exploded in the building next to her.

Abruptly, she had sat up straight, her hand reaching under her shirt to reach for the gun she had in her rib holster.

 _Thank God, I kept this on,_ She thanked her past self for being so alert.

James had moved slightly from her sudden movements, but he didn't awake.

Standing from the bed, she silently walked to the bedroom door, hearing no further sounds.

She held her breath, her senses working at full capacity as she attempted to find the source of the noise.

She walked down the hallway, her footsteps not making a sound. If someone was here, she didn't want them to know he was awake and looking for them.  
She held her gun directly in front of her, her finger already on the trigger just waiting to pull it.

Stepping into the kitchen, she eyed the closed window. Could someone possibly be out there?

Quickly, she was beside the window. She took a quick glance out of the glass, immediately spotting the source of the noise.

There was an orange tabby cat standing atop one of Anselm's trash bins.

It was licking its paw and looking directly at her with its yellow eyes. Gaz stared right back, telling herself that Hydra wasn't actually on its way to murder them, it was just a stray cat who wanted a snack from the bins.

As she thought of this fact, Gaz let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

Then, she heard the footsteps again. Except this time they were louder and untrained.

She pointed her gun towards the entryway, prepared to shoot if anyone except James or Anselm walked through the doorway.

"Gaz?" She heard a raspy, accented voice ask.  
She jumped at the sudden break of the silence but relaxed when she realized it was just Anselm's voice. He was hidden in the shadows, and once he stepped out she could easily see him.

He spotted her gun quickly, raising an eyebrow in curiosity and slight suspicion.

"Sorry, I thought I heard something. Turned out to just be a-" Unfortunately, Gaz didn't get to finish her sentence.

A loud boom was heard throughout the room and both bodies were thrown back by the blast.

Gaz flew face first into the ground, but with years of training, she was able to land smoothly, except for a slight sting in her wrist.

There was the sound of a bang coming from the spare room and Gaz hoped it was only James and not Hydra agents who were coming to kill all of them.

Judging by the bomb that just went off, she was starting to think the Hydra possibility could be more than just a possibility.

She stood from the ground quickly, scanning the room for Anselm and Hydra agents.

James had rushed into the room, his gun held out exactly as she held hers.

She pointed it to him instinctively before realizing who he was and lowering it, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"They're here." She told him, her voice not holding its usual strength.

James stared at her wide-eyed, "G-Go look. I have to stay here, I have to find Anselm." She told him, stuttering slightly.

Debris covered the room and the dust that flew in the air made it hard to see anything. She had made it out of the blast just fine, but she was a trained professional.  
"Ans?" She shouted, worry making it's way into her tone. She scoured the entire kitchen, her hands shaking and her heart pounding. She could feel the fast pace of her heart in every part of her body. Her head throbbed from the blast and her ears rang but she still crawled on her hands and knees, searching for the man who had been there for her for years.

She didn't get a verbal response to her many shouts, but she heard a groan.

She stopped moving suddenly, locating him based on his sound. With her gun in her hand, she crawled over to him. Her eyes were wide as she looked all around, trying to find the people who had done this.

But, she had more important things to worry about then revenge at the moment. Gaz needed to get her friend out of this, she couldn't let him die on her watch.

"Ans? Ans?" She asked, leaning down immediately to him when she saw his position. She instantly dropped her gun in order to try and examine the wounds.

He had been knocked back against the wall, the glass had flown directly at him and a significantly sized shard was stuck in his chest. It was lodged in too deep, it had definitely punctured one of his lungs. Gaz knew she could do nothing to help, even a hospital would have difficulty saving him from this particular injury.

Gaz stared at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, "No, No, you can't leave me too. Come on, Ans." She told him, her voice panic stricken as she cradled Anselm's face with her hand.

Anselm stared up at her, his green eyes focused on her brown ones.

"Don't look at me like that. Don't look at me like you're saying goodbye. Don't do this!" Gaz shouted, her voice breaking as she leaned over the dying man.

"M-Make it out…" He began, his words coming out slowly as he tried to breathe.

"Do not say your last words, Anselm, don't-" She started, swallowing as she stared down at him, horrified.

"Alive." He whispered, his expression looking slightly delirious before he stilled entirely. His green eyes no longer held their joyous glimmer, they were simply glossed over.

All signs of life had disappeared within a flash and the body before her was just that. A body.

Gaz froze, her breathing ceased as she held his face in her hands, his blood dripping onto her skin.

"Gaz, They're-" James began, walking into the kitchen only to freeze when he saw the scene in front of him.

Gaz turned and looked at him, her eyes wild and her jaw clenched with fury. Her hands still gently holding onto his cheeks as her fingers twitched.

"Where are they?" She spat, standing suddenly and releasing Anselm from her grip.

She picked up her gun which she had dropped and held it tightly in her grip, her other fist clenched firmly at her side.

"They've left," James told her, swallowing nervously as he watched the fire in her eyes.

She took deep, erratic breaths, her loaded gun still in her hand. Her knuckles were white as she held onto the handle furiously. Her eyes looked crazy as they flitted across the room, searching for the men who had committed the act even though James had told her they were gone.

"I'm going to get them. I'm going to get them and I am going to rip them apart limb by limb."

James's eyes widened at her blood-thirsty comment but he didn't have much time to be surprised, Gaz was already on the move.

"Get the suitcase. We're going to have to catch another train." She snarled, pushing past him with her shoulder as she disappeared from the kitchen.

Anselm's broken body was still sprawled on the floor, his own blood staining his cheerful face.


	11. Chapter 11

**The second chapter in one day :) I've been watching Marvel and writing most of the day soooooo...**

 **Review if you'd like!**

"He never gave us the tickets," These were the first words that Gaz had spoken to James in over four hours.

After Anselm's death, Gaz had decided that they would leave immediately.

However, that didn't happen.

The train station didn't open until dawn and when the pair looked up into the sky, it was pitch black, not even a hint of light creeping up from the horizon.

Gaz had angrily sighed before re-entering the ruined apartment.

They would have to sit and wait, it was just what they chose to occupy their time that would matter.

As Gaz walked by the kitchen, planning to look around Ans's apartment for more supplies, she saw his body and stilled.

 _I need to bury him,_ she told herself.

She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at the lifeless form of her closest friend. Technically, her only friend.

"Do you want help?" James's voice startled her and she jumped as she turned around to look at him.

She opened her mouth to speak but no words had come out. It was like her vocal chords had simply shut down due to shock.

Gaz nodded to him, a subtle nod that he would have missed if he hadn't have been paying close attention to her.

Without asking any other questions, James approached Anselm's body.

Gaz stepped forward slightly when James picked up the man, afraid that he would drop him or break more of his bones.

Wordlessly, Gaz guided James out through the large hole in the kitchen which revealed another alleyway.

She followed the dirt road through the alley to the other side of the building where there was an uninhabited section of grass and dirt.

James held Anselm's body in the dead of night, looking around only briefly to make sure no one was awake and watching.

He placed the man down onto the grass gently before looking to Gaz.

She scurried away quickly, having re-entered the hole in the wall to retrieve something to dig with.

Less than a minute later she had returned with a shovel. But, instead of giving the shovel to James she began to break the Earth on her own.

James didn't object, he just stood by and waited for her to either ask for his help, or finish her task.

She had begun digging at a normal speed, pushing the shovel into the ground with her foot before scooping up the dirt and tossing it into a pile beside her. But, as she continued to dig, her movements became more severe.

She no longer pushed down onto the shovel with her foot, she stomped down upon it, making it plunge deeper into the ground. Her muscles strained as she gathered as much dirt that would fit on the shovel before violently throwing it towards the pile, no longer collecting it neatly.

She carried on with that routine for awhile, it sped up the process but by the time she was done her fingers were red from holding the wooden shovel, her foot was becoming bruised from hitting the metal too hard, and her arms began to ache.

Gaz moved towards the body, starting to make the motions of trying to pick him up.

James stopped her by resting his hand on her shoulder.

She turned to him, her expression one he had never seen before.

Her eyes were devastatingly sad, but the rest of her face remained emotionless, she wasn't even frowning. But, her eyes made up for all of the sorrow. While there were no tears that tracked down her cheeks or welled in her eyes it was easy to tell that she was reliving memories just by the glazed over appearance of her chocolate brown eyes.

Taking the hint, Gaz stepped back and watched as James gently picked up Anselm's lifeless form. He turned towards the grave and sank to his knees, carefully placing the body into the ground.

Gaz watched in a daze as James picked up a handful of dirt from the pile she had tried to create, only to make a mess of it.

Silently, he sprinkled the dirt onto Anselm's body and then turned back to Gaz, urging her to do the same.

Gaz let out a shaky breath, a raw sound that James had never heard from her before. He was uncovering a lot of her emotions, but he certainly wished it was under better circumstances.

 _I don't want to see her sad emotions,_ He thought, _I want to hear her laugh, like how she did last night._

Even though it was a poor excuse for a laugh, the sound still made James feel warm inside, it made him feel that familiarity that brought comfort into his soul.

She crouched down, gathering dirt in both of her hands. She looked down at her hands, seeing Anselm's dried blood on her fingers.

She crawled over to the edge of the grave and solemnly looked down. Gaz bit the inside of her cheek as she stared at the neutral expression of her usually happy faced friend. His eyes were closed and his face was relaxed. He would look like he was resting if it wasn't for the pool of blood that stained and covered his chest and torso.

She swallowed, taking one handful of dirt and gently sprinkling it around him. Then, she took her other dirt filled hand and repeated the action. She rotated her body, gathering more dirt in her hands and then facing the grave once more. She continued to pour the dirt into the grave using her bare hands until there was a small pile laying atop his body. The dirt covered the blood stains on his chest, which was what Gaz was aiming for.

When she had not returned to gather more dirt, and instead stared directly down at Anselm's body, James stepped in. He crouched down to her level and gently placing his hand on her shoulder once again.

She stood, knowing that he was telling her to stop, to let him fill the grave in a more timely manner.

Gaz turned to face him, meeting his eyes only briefly before gently shoving past him and walking away from the grave.

She wanted to look back, she wanted to watch as the grave was properly filled with dirt. She wanted to sit there, to pray to whatever Gods might be listening. But, she left and she didn't even glance back.

After reliving this particularly painful memory within a matter of seconds, Gaz cringed.

James was the one to wake Gaz from her trance.

"You were talking about tickets? He asked a new tone of gentleness in his usually gruff voice.

Gaz blinked a couple of times before turning to James. They were both sat in the newly opened train station, hoods up and heads bowed.

"Oh, Uh, Yeah. Anselm- He was going to give us tickets but he never did. I couldn't find them anywhere. Besides, we can't wait here until late morning. We'll need to catch a different train." Gaz informed him, pausing momentarily when she spoke Anselm's name.

James nodded along with what she was saying, "Any idea where we might go, then?" He asked.

But, Gaz wasn't paying any attention.

While her head was positioned downwards so that no one could see her face, her eyes were looking up at the group of men standing near the entrance doorway.

James sensed her sudden unease and followed her gaze easily to the group of men.

They all stood in one group, wearing large coats which obviously held some sort of artillery.

"Shit," Gaz remarked in her usual monotone.

"Let's get out of here, we don't want to cause a-" James began, but Gaz was already reaching into her backpack.

"Cause a scene?" She questioned, unwrapping her knife kit and lifting her shirt to reveal her knife belt and rib holster.

She began slipping the knives into the remaining sheaths and gave James a strong look, daring him to speak again.

"I'm taking the bastards down myself." She spoke, holding onto a single curved knife which looked the most lethal out of all of them.

She twirled the knife in her hand, now standing and gaining the attention of the group of men.

"If you don't want to help, don't. If you want to, grab your gun." Gaz told him roughly, her knife held firmly in her hand.

She turned away from him, facing the men with a strong stance.

"You're not giving me much of a choice," James remarked gruffly, reaching for the gun in his waistband.

"Hey! Over here!" Gaz shouted suddenly, waving her free hand in the air.

Luckily, the station was mostly empty besides a few workers who had at this point, stopped to watch the scene unfold.

The men all turned, scowls upon their faces as they pulled out their own weapons.

Many held guns, while others held knives like Gaz.

She didn't wait long to pull another knife from her sheath, bringing her arm back and aiming for the man at the front of the group.

The blade flew through the air, landing directly in the lung of the man.

He fell to the ground instantly, the blood pooling around his shirt as the knife remained plunged deep within his flesh.

Gaz took deep breaths, her brown eyes showing some emotion. They were wild, insane even as she charged towards another man, personally lodging her knife directly into his throat.

James was momentarily shocked, but it didn't last long. They were all assassins, they were all capable of things no one believed imaginable.

The men, over the initial surprise of losing two men in under a minute, began firing their guns at the pair.

James fired expertly, planning to shoot only one man. But, the power of the gun Anselm had given them was underestimated. The bullet had not only penetrated the man's chest but tore through it. The bullet wasn't stopped by the man's internal organs, it simply propelled through them and flew out from the man's back, hitting the man behind him in the leg.

Both men fell, only one of them dying instantly.

James's eyes widened when he saw the damage the gun had done, he was impressed.

But, not as impressed as he was with Gaz.

While he had taken down two men already, she had taken down at least five.

Knives flew from her hands quickly, each knife earning her an instant kill.

By the time her knife sheaths were empty, she had run out of lives to end.

Her face was splattered with blood, her chest heaving as she stood among the lifeless forms of the Hydra agents.

She pressed her foot down upon one of their chest's, her hand reaching down to grasp one of her knives which had become lodged in his sternum.

With a sickening break, she had pulled the knife from the bone and simply returned it to her sheath, ignoring the blood which stained her shirt and her skin.

"Help me get the rest of these, there's more coming and I'll need my knives," Gaz instructed, performing the same method of removal on another man.

Her foot pushed down onto his sternum as she tore the knife out of his lung.

James nodded at her request, trying not to stare at the carnage of bodies that now littered the train station.

He retrieved three of her knives, handing them to her. She held one in each hand now, blood crawling up to her arms and staining her hands.

"Leave the stuff here, we'll come back for it." Gaz instructed, walking through the doorway and out into the open.  
Villagers were now awake and starting their jobs or simply going to the markets to get breakfast. No one noticed James and Gaz as they walked around the building, weapons in hand.

No one noticed the blood stained shirt and skin of Gaz. It made James wonder if they were used to this sort of thing, or if they were told to ignore it.

Gaz paid no attention to the villagers, they weren't important in her plan and she didn't plan to hurt them unless they got in her way.

As they rounded the corner and entered the backyard of the building, they instantly saw the group of Hydra men.

"Only five this time. Clearly, we're not as important as we thought we were." Gaz remarked, rolling her shoulders and preparing to throw her knives.

"Or they're everywhere in the town," James suggested, his thumb millimeters above the trigger as he aimed his gun.

"Or that." Gaz shrugged, turning her head slowly to glance at him.

James wasn't looking, he was instead focused on the five oblivious men who were about to be attacked by two vengeful assassins.

Gaz quickly passed over his features, noticing his strong jawline and steely blue eyes.

She furrowed her brows momentarily, shaking her head slightly and turning back to the task at hand.

She mentally scolded herself before throwing back her arm and with a flourish of her wrist, the knife went flying.

It flew directly into the man's ribs.

Once James saw Gaz's movement he immediately began shooting.

He positioned his gun so that the bullet would tear through two men just as it had done last time.

The plan went accordingly and James watched as Gaz did a little twirl before throwing the knife in her left hand with perfect accuracy into a man's heart.

That was four men down, and the fifth was running at them, his gun shooting bullets which they both dodged with ease.

"Shoot him," Gaz directed, jumping closer to James to avoid being torn through by a bullet.

James complied easily, shooting the man directly in the head.

Gaz waited for the man to fall before turning to James, "Nice shot." She complimented.

James shrugged before looking up, his eyes following the cargo train that was coming to a stop at the station.

"Look at that," Gaz remarked, crouching down to take the recently deceased's handgun, "Perfect timing."

James didn't say anything, he simply stood by and watched as the cargo train came to a complete stop in front of them.

"So, We can either pay them to let us on, or we can sneak into a car." Gaz explained their options as she collected her knives from her victim's bodies.

James looked at her, an eyebrow raised as if to say "What do you think my answer is going to be?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello! I have returned with a chapter, a short chapter, but nonetheless a chapter. I've been writing this story on my Google Drive and I just hit 100 pages! I know that's probably boring to everyone but I am EXCITED! Anyways, thanks for reading! And, if you enjoy the story, please review! I am very annoying and need validation.**

Unbeknownst to the conductor of the train, there were two people sitting in his train in the fifth car.

They were both sitting with their backs pressed against wooden crates filled with plastic baskets of assorted dark berries.

However, the crates were now two plastic baskets short since the two assassins hidden in the train car were silently munching on the berries as a breakfast.

They were sitting close together, the sides of their legs touching as they ate from the baskets sat in their laps.

Beside them, sat the suitcase and the backpack, momentarily forgotten about since they were too immersed in their meal.

"Do you know where we're going?" James asked suddenly, turning to look at Gaz as she popped a blackberry into her mouth.  
She gave a shrug, "Away from here. Besides, we can jump off at any time we want." She reasoned.

James stared at her once she said this, "Jump off?" He asked, looking a bit worried about her proposition.

"Yeah, haven't you ever jumped off a train before?" Gaz asked, surprised by his lack of experience.

James thought for a moment, "Not when I've been conscious."

Gaz narrowed her eyes at this, looking to James, "What do you mean 'been conscious'?" She asked curiously.

James gave a nonchalant shrug, "On missions, I always feel like I'm not entirely there."

Gaz's eyes widened at this comment, "Missions? You mean with Hydra?"

He nodded slightly, looking down at the basket of berries.

"Are you- Are you like that now?" She asked, hesitating on her words as she stared cautiously at the man beside her.

He lifted his gaze, staring straight ahead, "I don't think so. It's different, it always feels… hazy." He explained vaguely.

Gaz nodded, her lips now parted as she tried to think of what to say.

She remembered back to when the Command Major of Hydra had told her he had a mission for James.

It was silent for a few minutes as an internal battle was fought in Gaz's mind.

 _He has a right to know,_ She told herself firmly.

 _What if it sets him off? He'll kill me right here and right now,_ The other half of her argued.

 _Remember all of that "Doing good to balance the bad," lie you said right to his face?_ She asked herself.

She let out an involuntary sigh as her conscience screamed at her to do the right thing.

"They, um, they said they were going to give you a mission," Gaz admitted, watching as James snapped his head back up to look at her.

She froze, _This is it,_ She told herself, _I am definitely going to be murdered by an assassin who I just saved yesterday._

But, instead of lunging at her and choking her with his metal arm like she expected, he gave her a questioning look,

"Really?" He asked, an innocent curiosity on his face.

Gaz let out a sigh of relief once he spoke in his normal voice and she gave him a nod as confirmation.

"I don't feel any different." He said, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

She didn't exactly know what to say, so instead she popped a blackberry into her mouth and waited for him to say something else.

Except, he didn't say anything. He stared blankly at the wall of the train car with a wounded expression.

Gaz let out a light sigh, realizing that she would have to say something to console the man beside her, "Maybe it's like what you said yesterday? The trigger?" She suggested, her voice attempting softness.

He took in a breath, shrugging once more, "Maybe. Whatever they did when they found me… It did something to my memories. I can barely remember anything that happened before they caught me. It's all just… shadows." He spoke slowly, choosing his words very carefully.

Sometime during his statement, he had looked away from her, no longer keeping eye contact.

Gaz spoke tentatively, not wanting to upset him, or worse, trigger him, "Shadows?"

He nodded when she repeated his words, "Yeah, shadows. I can only see the outlines, nothing more. Sometimes I feel like I can see more but it always… slips away." He explained weakly.

Gaz stared at him as he spoke, watching how his expression grew more and more confused. She felt bad for him. Even though she wasn't exactly sure what the feeling in the pit of her stomach was, she was sure that she felt bad for him.

"I've never had to deal with anything even remotely close to this and I'm not good at giving advice anyways so…" She trailed off, actually thinking hard about what she could say to somehow ease his pain.

"Um... Maybe you could focus on being who you are now instead of worrying about the memories?" Gaz suggested, feeling pleased with the advice she had come up with it.

James blinked, thinking it over.

"Well, I don't really know who I am now. I don't feel like a person, I feel like a-"

"Machine." Gaz interrupted, finally feeling as if she could relate to something he was saying.

He turned to her, meeting her eyes for the first time since the conversation began.

"Yeah…" He said slowly.

Gaz nodded with as much understanding as she could handle, "Yeah, they do that." She told him.

"How?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  
She hesitated for a moment, "Well, for officers it's different. They strip you of your name and most of your rights. You're not allowed to own much of anything, everything you have is Hydra assigned. They tell you what to do with your time and how you're supposed to think. If you even have just a sliver of an opinion you get punished for it. But, I know for you, it was a lot worse."

James listened to her intently as she spoke, his eyes watching hers with interest.

"Do you know who you are?" He asked simply.

She swallowed, her brow furrowing for only a moment before her face returned to its normal expression.

"I know I'm a killer. What I did back there, that's me." She shrugged.

James looked as if he didn't believe her, "That's not true. You killed them because you had to. I killed them too."

"I aimed for their lungs," Gaz admitted, her voice monotone.

"That's not-" James began, shaking his head defiantly.

"Listen to me! I killed those people and I was… happy about it. I aimed for their lungs because that's… the glass was in his lung. I murdered those people and I felt a rush. All that stuff I said about 'righting wrongs' that was bullshit! I've never righted a wrong in my life." Gaz erupted, anger suddenly flying out of her.

James waited for only a couple of minutes to allow Gaz to cool down before speaking again, "You risked your life to break me out of Hydra." He reminded her.

Gaz scoffed automatically, "I did that because I owed you a debt."

"No, you did it because you knew what they were doing was wrong and you wanted to-" He began, only to be interrupted by Gaz shouting at him again.  
"Stop making excuses for me! I know who I am, I'm a trained assassin! I have been since I was 15 and I'm not going to stop anytime soon."

"Why are you so hellbent on making me believe you're a bad person?" James asked, ending her tirade by speaking over her angry voice.

"Because I am a bad person." She spoke, softer this time.

"You saved me. No matter what you've done in the past, you saved me. I don't care how many people you've killed, I've killed too. You got me out of that place and you did it because I saved you. I don't even remember saving you but you returned the favor anyways." He said seriously, looking at her with the most kindness and passion she had ever received.

Gaz no longer had any arguments to spew, she was too focused on the intense gaze of the blue-eyed man sitting next to her.

"I wish I was the person you think I am." She whispered to him, looking down to her lap and breaking the eye contact.  
"You're away from them now," He said, no longer looking at her.  
She didn't interrupt, this time, she allowed him to speak whatever was on his mind.  
"You can find out who you were too before you were… involved with Hydra." He told her, not knowing how to phrase the ending of his sentence.

"The last time I wasn't involved with Hydra I was ten years old," Gaz informed him, twiddling her thumbs.

James gave another shrug, "I really don't remember anything about my past. I basically have a clean slate."

Gaz winced when he used the term 'clean slate' since it was the exact description the Command Major had used to defend the procedure they performed on James.  
However, James didn't seem to notice her displeasure with the word.

"I don't think I'd be able to forget the things I've done," Gaz told him.

"Don't focus on the memories then, focus on being who you are." He repeated her earlier words with a small trace of a smile on his lips.

She turned to look at him after he had said the words and saw the traces of his own smirk, which caused her to truly smile for the first time in years.


End file.
